


Another Day in Genosha

by a6_oud, kageillusionz



Series: Gone With the Wind AU [1]
Category: Gone With the Wind, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morals, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, F/M, First Kiss, Genosha, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Made Up History, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pining, Prejudice and Bigotry, Protective!Erik, Slow Burn, Smitten Erik, Wordcount: Over 50.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:37:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 88,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a6_oud/pseuds/a6_oud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageillusionz/pseuds/kageillusionz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When war finally broke out between the Brotherhood and the Mutant Resistance Alliance, Charles Xavier, young omega, must overcome trials and tribulations to get what he wants for himself and for his family. Too bad many of those trials come in the form of Erik Lehnsherr, older alpha with the reputation of a rogue.</p><p>AKA, X-Men meets Gone with the Wind in an A/O world set in Genosha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From **Kage:**  
>  This couldn't have been possible at all if it weren't for the lovely and extremely talented a6_oud. My biggest and most heartfelt thank you to A6 for being the best artist anyone can hope for. It has sincerely been a pleasure working with you on this project and I am so lucky to have the opportunity to work alongside you. A6's patience knows no boundaries, even as we battled difficulties such as project deadlines and going overseas together, and I am so glad that I have the honour of calling you my friend at the end of this wonderful collaboration, so thank you!  
> Thank you also to my fellow RBBers and cheerleaders who have been through me through thick and thin, especially to Ike, Wall, Jeri, Di, Mon, Betty, Q, Souffle, Treacle, Cupcake, Cakey, Shiblets, Syn, Lou, Chem, and Ao-kun: so many who deserve thank yous, for giving me the inspiration, the support and that push to keep me writing, and of course for listening to me whine whether it be over Skype or over gelato.  
> And finally, this work would not be complete if it weren't for the dedicated work of Roz, who has been ever so lovely when it comes to tackling and editing some 90k words (more by now I am sure); I am in awe that you have managed to wade through all of these words. All of my hobnobs and kitten videos belong to you. All remaining and lingering mistakes are my own.  
> Having said that, Another Day in Genosha is still unfinished, despite being a little over halfway. There are two endings planned, of which I still have yet to plan what to do with the other one, and my sincerest apologies for not having finished them on time for the end of this challenge.

Charles F. Xavier was not an omega that one would consider classically beautiful, although alphas hardly acknowledged this when they were ensnared by the charm that exudes from him. He was the son of his alpha mother Sharon, a gentlewoman from the British Isles, and his omega father Brian, a self-made man and native Genoshan who owned an apple orchard by the name of Westchester. He had been told by many that he was the spitting image of his father with floppy brunet hair, high cheekbones and a square jaw. His personality was a mix of Brian’s sweeter disposition mixed with Sharon’s stubborn streak. His eyes were completely his own, for they were as blue as the waters out in the harbours of Hammer Bay.

Charles adored relaxing under the shade of the largest apple tree with a good science text, or with someone or another of his many admirers, both omega and alpha alike, as they exchanged news and stories. Today was not any different. For sat upon the green grass underneath the harsh rays of the mid-afternoon sun was Charles, surrounded by the three Summers brothers. The brothers were alike with their blonde hair, hazel eyes and bright smiles; the four boys painted a peaceful picture.

The weather was atrocious and the heat far too oppressive to wear anything thicker than cotton. Charles wore a long sleeved powder blue shirt made of muslin, and a pair of darker navy blue jodhpurs that tucked away into a highly polished pair of soft black leather boots. Above the shirt sat a light corset vest in the same navy blue with intricate gold thread embellishments that was cinched in at the back by black leather lace to show off a waist of eighteen inches. The set of blue attire was carefully co-ordinated to bring out the colour of his eyes that sparkled with mischief.

Despite the fine omega attire that he wore almost like armour and the demure placement of his hands on his lap were as taught by his father, Charles hid away his true character underneath layers of sweet smiles and unassuming moist eyes where none could see his lust for life and adventure, harder to spot yet underneath his impeccable demeanour. Such willfulness would be most improper in a young omega such as Charles. His father taught him with gentle words and the lure of the world of science whereas his mammy had preferred a sterner pathway; yet neither could tame the rambunctious beast that simmered quietly behind blue eyes.

Arranged in a circle around him upon the tartan picnic blanket were the Summers brothers, their sandy, blonde hair glinting in the sun with equally tanned skin. The eldest was Scott, an alpha, who was two years older than Charles’ ripe age of twenty with his perpetual scowl upon his face, undoubtedly displeased to be acting as an escort when he could be in town wooing his red-haired shop assistant sweetheart. Alex was two years younger than Charles and also an omega, but without Charles’ affinity for being presentable when amongst friends as he sat sprawled out amongst the grass, the long lines of his legs crossed at the ankles and propped up against one of the roots by the base of the apple tree. And then there was Gabriel, or fondly known as Gabe, who adored everyone and was in turn adored _by_ everyone. Gabe happily spent his days acting his full mature age of eight years and idled the afternoon away by playing with the dogs and happily dirtied his clothes, only half listening over the sound of happy barking to whatever was being discussed at the time. Both Gabe and Scott had on identical muted forest green coats over white cotton shirts and gray-coloured breeches which was an appropriate colour scheme for alpha males. Alex, on the other hand, wore khaki breeches that complemented the deep crimson of his corset vest.

As the hour drew later, the late afternoon sun crept into the orchard, casting the orchard in a deep sea of gold and emphasized the red skins of the apples. A few hundred yards away were the three horses that the Summers boys rode over, grazing on the grass with interest. They were beautiful animals, bay coloured and sturdy in the chest, depicting excellent bloodlines as mounts. Between Alex's large loyal black hound that accompanied him everywhere, and who took its duties as bodyguard fiercely, and those that followed Scott and Gabriel dutifully, there was a certain camaraderie between the boys and their animals that Charles envied. It spoke of a relationship, a kinship that ran deeper than just constant companionship, for the Summer boys were as thick as thieves. It was the spirit of youth, a vitality that was on account of them being young and healthy, graceful and high-spirited as the air they sipped from the goblets of their privileged upbringing, but despite all these factors, the Summers boys were sweet-tempered to those that managed to win and hold their favour, and thankfully Charles was one such individual.

Life in Genosha was tough and creating a livelihood to support a family was tougher still. However, it tempered their spirits and conditioned them to endure hard work; the people were happy and were never afraid to get their hands dirty. Education wasn't as important around the newer parts of Genosha as it was the older parts to the east, where propriety and social hierarchy schooled the people there to be soft and courteous in a most poisonous manner.

Sharon had been born amongst the finer things back in Britain to parents that were middle-class but still rather well off, but had readily left that life in order to pursue a life filled with love. She found it when travelling abroad alone, accidentally running into Brian on horseback when he had been visiting relatives. And they have been happily married ever since with Sharon taking up Brian's last name rather than the other way around. A marriage that was blessed by the birth of Charles, but a complication during Charles’ delivery had meant Brian was unable to conceive any more children, thus shattering Sharon's dream of raising an alpha child of her very own. Later, Anna-Marie came to live with them after her parents had been tragically killed in a carriage. Charles had never heard of her parents, but she became Charles’ first adoptive omega younger sister and her powers meant that Anna-Marie wore white silk gloves at all times. A year after that came Angel, a sullen omega with the power to spit acid and fly, appeared on their doorstep. With the house now filled with the sounds of children, Sharon spent her time teaching her children the meaning of hard work with a fair but strict hand and placed her expectations in mastery of skills that ranged from a strong seat in the saddle to keeping the wild animals out with a bullet.

Brian had inherited Westchester from his parents and it in turn would eventually end up going to Charles and the alpha that he would marry. Charles who was smart and clever in all the things that mattered, showed an interest in managing the orchard alongside his father and a passion for learning the genetics behind the trees, but he was unfortunately born a male omega who learnt to dance and socialize with grace and elegance.

The elder two Summers boys weren't particularly clever in the head, Scott preferring to spend his time in town with his lady love or learning how to blacksmith and Alex liked the finer intricacies of horse breeding and carefully chosen bloodlines from his alpha father. The Summers were known for their well bred work horses and Alex had been excited to share the stories of helping his father deliver the first foals in the coming spring. In that hands on regard, they excelled and flourished under tutelage. However, Gabe had them both beat when it came to learning anything from pages of a book. In that regard, Gabe and Charles got on swimmingly, two fountains of knowledge that quoted horse anatomy and horse genetics at a pace that confounded Gabe's brothers. Neither of them had plans to attend university; a fact that was corroborated by several years in New London Military Academy and New London's Omega Academy, where Charles had first met Alex.

Charles was set to attend the University of New London to study biology with a major in genetics and taxonomy the coming fall, and he was still bent on convincing Alex to come with him. "You should come with me to University of New London, Alex. You could study biology with me or maybe you'll find you have harboured a fondness for geophysics or mathematics. We could room together at an omega-only dorm, just the two of us," he said, giving the hardcover textbook at his side a fond pat.

Alex scoffed at the idea, shaking his head. Despite the current omega fashion of keeping stylishly longer locks, Alex routinely refused and kept his hair as short as his elder brother. "Horses and apples are very different things. And before you argue with me about the different gene things, you can't apply your line of work into raising a good workhorse, Charles," he argued. "You have to look at the sire and the dam, and the grandsires and the granddams too. And to help Da out I have to be out in the corrals actually looking at the horses, not looking through books."

"Yes. And we all know what a waste of time and money that would be on my kid omega brother," Scott interjected. "He's better off trying to find an alpha that wants him rather than spending time filling his head with useless knowledge. Ma's worried no one would want an omega who spends his days trying to be an alpha he ain't." Alex glared at Scott, fury in his eyes. Charles hid a smile behind a bite of his apple, used to the antics between them. "And Alex has gotta be home long enough to do that."

"What do you mean, Scott?"

"There's a war coming," Scott stated, matter-of-factly. "Any one of these days it will start, and then all the alphafolk will be off fighting. Who do you suppose is going to be looking after the farms until we return?" Scott folded his arms, a cool smirk on his face.

"It wouldn't be much of a war if they let me come along." Alex scowled. The Summer family mutations were well documented to have something to do with energy, the origins of where still confounded many researches into how seemingly innocuous human look-alikes could be capable of wielding such weaponry. "It would be the shortest war in the history of wars."  The two brothers glared at one another until Charles cleared his throat, redirecting their attention back to Charles. A good omega was able to direct conversation in any direction they chose, after all.

"The talks are still going on. There won't be a war, at least not that soon. I know that there wouldn't be." Charles shook his head, acknowledging that a war was inevitable. But he had utmost faith in the talks to delay it for at least weeks if not months.

"Where did you even hear that, Charles?"

"Raven Darkholme and her father-" The very idea of Raven set Charles' cheeks aflame. Thankfully it was harder to tell from underneath the brim of his hat. He coughed once. "They told Mother the other day that the talks had been going well and it would be any day now that negotiations for a, well, solution that satisfies both parties will be reached. The Mutant Resistance Alliance won't be able to touch us because they know they can't defeat us. Not when our armies are filled with so many gifted alphas that will keep us safe."

Scott laughed and shook his head, disbelief on his face as he humoured Charles' line of thinking. "There will be war, Charles. And we'll be ready. The MRA may realize that they are outgunned and outmatched, but they will try. The humans, the betas, they want change and equality, rights even, and they will fight us - The Brotherhood - for it. They won't see reason unless it's written in bullets and fed into their front lines, Charles. And with the recent attacks made into Fort Harrison by General Farouk, they can't afford to not strike back unless they want to look like cowards. And we all know that the Brotherhood-"

Before Scott could get any further or Alex could chip into the conversation, Charles made a disinterested noise and sniffed. "If you say anything related to the war again, I'm going to go back inside the house and you won't be invited when I'll enjoy a refreshing glass of apple cider." The Xaviers were known for the refreshing flavour of their wares and Charles' generosity had always been extended to his friends, so it was a sizeable threat in Charles' eyes. "Mother speaks of nothing else but the war at our family meals and frankly I'm sick and tired of hearing about it unless it's to do with the end of the war. Whenever Mother has guests over, they speak of nothing else and it is ever so boring when all of it is speculation anyway. And not just Mother's guests, but all the alphas ever talk about these days is joining the Brotherhood when the day comes. I could go on and on about Genoshan Rights and Fort Harrison and that horrid William Stryker fellow, but I'm not going to." Charles let out a wistful sigh as he thought about the string of parties and social gatherings that always happened in the spring. He could hear Scott's thoughts about the topic, all of which Charles had already heard before and it just wouldn't stand if he wasted another day listening to things he already knew - whether it was through the use of his telepathy or his ears.

Carefully, Charles summoned his most placating smile and simpered demurely to soothe any feathers he might have ruffled. "I'm sorry, Scott. It's just, there hasn't been any fun these past few weeks and I'm sick and tired when no one would talk about anything else. I wish I could go into town on my own." But as the only alpha in his family was his mother and she was always busy, Charles had been confined to the grounds of Westchester for over a week now. And there was only so much reading from his father's textbooks until he craved to do something else.

Thankfully Scott wasn't offended, murmuring a swift apology for the dry topic of conversation, and began picking at a new slice of apple pie. After all, war was the business of alphafolk, and it seemed hardly appropriate to be discussed in the presence of omegafolk lest they fainted at the mere mention of conflict and violence. Omegafolk were hardly expected to understand the various war tactics and politics that went on behind the scenes and Scott was undoubtedly unused to such a traditional omega mindset when Alex was as invested in the war as he appeared to be.

Charles congratulated himself for such a smooth transition away from the subject of war and pondered which topic would engage the Summers brothers, a tactic that Charles deployed often to wriggle and ensure he remained in the good books of many. "As I recall Alex telling me the other day, wasn't your new arrival meant to be here by now?" Horses were a safe bet as it was the lifeblood of the Summers family and Charles' eidetic memory certainly helped catalogue all his acquaintances likes and dislikes. It was why his mother was so proud of her eldest son's achievements; apparently Charles' name came up every so often in town and he was often asked about when his mother went into New London for supplies and his father accompanied her for the news.

It was Gabe that answered, leaves sticking out of his dirty blonde hair. "You should see him, Charles! The new stallion Mama brought in is huge! He's about the size of our house." Charles couldn't help being charmed by Gabe's description of the new stallion and his enthusiasm for telling the story of how the new horse bit half the human and beta stable hands and had nearly taken out the foundations of his new stable. "Anyway, I wasn't scared of him at all," Gabe told Charles proudly, his little chest all puffed out.

"How courageous you are, Gabe," Charles complimented him with a smile.

"You should have seen the way the big mean thing turn into a little colt all over again when Mama pulled out a bag filled with sugar," Alex added. "She had him eating out of her hand in no time, lipping at her hand like; it was incredible how his personality turned into that of Teddy over there, sweet and demure, and almost playful." Charles could never fathom how Mrs. Summers managed to keep the men in her life on the straight and narrow, and yet continue to run her household like any good omega should. Katherine Summers was a busy fiery woman, strict and unyielding, who left the training of the horses she breeds to that of her husband and expected nothing else but obedience from her boys while maintaining that the whip should never be applied to the horses or the stablehands but the threat was always hanging above their heads.

"I should imagine my mother would like to see him." If it was one thing that Katherine Summers had in common with Sharon Xavier, it was their appreciation of good bloodlines and fine animals. "Do you suppose she will be riding the stallion to the barbeque at the Darkholmes tomorrow?"

"They haven't broken him in yet and Papa says it would be better to wait until he's more familiar with the surroundings first." Although no one could ever tell Katherine what to do, her alpha did have the ultimate say. Alex pondered for a moment. "In fact, I think Papa is arranging for us to travel by carriage tomorrow, which is absurd since everyone knows Mama and I ride everywhere. But he believes it wouldn't be proper like for us." The last part was said awfully bitterly, but Charles could empathize as he too loved the freedom of riding where he chose.

"I'll be riding to the Darkholmes barbeque tomorrow," Gabe informed Charles. Alex shook his head and mouthed 'no' at Charles who hid a smile behind a sip of apple juice. He spent his time listening as the brothers exchanged more words, watching as the sun began to set.

Unlike the cotton plantations further along the road, the Xavier's apple orchard blossomed with fruit all year round. Brian Xavier was a clever man and had dedicated his youth in producing harvest that lasted even throughout the winter months. His scientific projects into creating apple crops that blossomed and bloomed in every season had made him impossibly rich and afforded him a staff that worked unceasingly throughout the year. The weather was turning warmer and the apples on the trees were just about ready and ripe for harvesting with the turn of Spring. Charles felt his heart swell with pride as he watched the sun glint off the water of Greymalkin Lake, the leaves of the deciduous trees rustling as a brisk breeze wandered through Westchester.

Out past the leaves of Westchester, Charles could see the stark deep lines of freshly plowed soil that cut into the side of the hill in intricate curves into the Genoshan countryside, dark gaping maws awaiting the seeds of the next harvest. He had never noticed how deep the crimson colour of the countryside was, cast in the light of the setting sun. The little white apiaries that his father had built for the bees he has raised stood out, stark in the sea of red that swirled over and under and in-between that highlighted the tips of the hills in orange and plunged the deeper gnolls into maroon and plums. There was an abundance of crop here, where the soil was rich with nutrients, tilled to ensure the rich earth wouldn't be washed away at the first sign of Spring showers. In the flatter parts of Genosha to the north, the farms there were plowed by ploughs pulled by barrel-chested work horses in straight parallel lines and towards the more coastal regions, where the earth was decidedly less suited for edible crops with the higher levels in salinity but allowed hardier crops like asparagus and tomatoes to thrive.

There was hardly any land left that was unclaimed by someone or another, except for the smaller, wilder parts of Genosha that sat quietly at the borders, almost forgotten but always there as if laying in wait for the time when it could reclaim the carefully plowed earth. The jungle wood with its swaying vines were content to bide its time, watching and waiting for its chance.

The four boys slowly packed up the remains of their impromptu picnic, choosing to meander back to the house. With the oncoming darkness settling in with ease where warmth once occupied came the sound of the Westchester apple-pickers and the clip-clop of hooves. They appeared to be in good spirits, breaking into soft song as they slowly marched in from the more distant parts of the orchard, undoubtedly looking forward to rest and some supper. From the house came the sound of Brian Xavier's commands, in what must have been the middle of food allocation for the beta and human workers as well as the tail end of the table being set for his own family. The dogs work themselves up into a happy frenzy, more than pleased to be found underfoot of their owners.

"We probably should get going," Scott announced as soon as they arrived on the wide porch of the homestead of the Westchester Orchard. Alex and Gabe pulled faces, both loath to leave and return home just yet. Charles couldn't resist a small chuckle at the twin looks of hope on their faces, each broadcasting loudly that they wouldn't mind staying at Westchester if Charles would be so kind as to extend an invitation. Scott, on the other hand, looked sternly at his brothers until they eventually yielded to him.

"I hope you and I get to dance tomorrow night, Charles," Gabe declared. "You always dance with everyone but me." The boys laughed as Gabe crossed his arms, pretending to look as cross as possible which turned out more endearing than he would have liked. It was impossible for anyone not to be charmed by such innocence, oblivious to the truth behind dancing with intent with an omega when one was an alpha.

"I should hardly think I would dance with everyone, Gabe. That would be nearly impossible!"

"You've also got to come sit with us tomorrow. Remember how you, me and Alex spent the last ball making up all sorts of silly stories as we sat upon the stairs?" Charles nodded when Gabe prompted him to. "I liked your stories the best. If you say yes, I'll tell you a secret!"

Charles chuckled. "I promise to dance with you first, Gabe," he offered, bending down to Gabe's level. "How does that sound?"

Gabe thrust his hand out, pinky finger extended. "Pinky promise?"

"Of course."  Charles shook on the deal. "Now do tell me of your little secret." One knew that secrets, gossip and omegas all go hand in hand.

"Is this the one that we were told by Miss Letty yesterday evening?" Alex asked, a small scowl on his face. "You know we promised not to tell a soul."

"But this is Charles!  Charles won't tell anyone, will you?" Gabe turned his eyes to Charles and gave his best impression of a puppy dog. "And Charles is a telepath so he might already know this anyway!"

"I haven't been to town for a few days, so I can assure you that I do not know of Miss Letty's secret," Charles reassured Gabe, carefully excluding the fact that Letty McCoy - Henry McCoy's aunt - wasn't his biggest fan and wouldn't give him the time of day even if he asked as politely as he could.

"Well, Alex and me-"

Scott interrupted sternly, "It's Alex and I, Gabe."  

His little brother rolled his eyes and continued: "Alex and I were in New London yesterday, picking up some groceries from Miss Grey when she walked into the store and talked to us. She told us of the engagement that would be announced tomorrow at the Darkholme's barbeque that, in her words, will undoubtedly surprise everyone."

Charles tilted his head and processed Gabe's words. "But doesn't everyone already know that? Sparrow Darkholme and Miss Letty's niece have been planning to get married since years ago, but Sparrow had been rather disinterested by it all. I'd go so far as to say Sparrow wasn't entirely too keen. And it is to be expected that the McCoys are to be wedded to the Darkholmes." With the exception of Raven, Charles mentally added to himself.

"You kept telling me that Sparrow was plenty keen on you at last year's ball," Alex said with a grin. "That he kept orbiting around you like a bee and a flower."

"I can hardly expect him not to." Charles carelessly shrugged. The way he saw it, alphas were split down the middle in regards to his telepathy: some abhorred it and others were awed by it. Telepathy after all was a powerful tool, with the ability to change anyone's minds, and had Charles been more lax with his admittedly questionable moral compass, he could have any alpha he wanted.

"Be that as it may, that wasn't the engagement Miss Letty told us about," Gabe continued, smug that he had the upper hand against Charles. "It's Raven Darkholme's engagement to Bobby Drake's omega cousin - Mr Henry McCoy!"

Charles' face doesn't budge, narry a twitch to acknowledge Gabe's words. He doesn't really register time trickling away as the shock settles in the pits of his belly as his mind slowly unravels the meaning behind the words. Raven Darkholme - his Raven! - to be wedded to Henry McCoy? How was that possible? Gabe hardly noticed Charles' reaction, likely ignoring it out of childish obliviousness or mistaking Charles' silence for rapt interest that it wasn't, and he continued to speak.

"Miss Letty told us that they were going to keep the news hush hush, you see, but then they thought it would be better to hurry the marriage along just in case the war does happen. So that's the secret!" Gabe looked pleased with himself. "Now you simply have to dance with me and promise that we'll sit on the stair landings again making up silly stories about the people at the barbeque."

Charles was on auto-pilot, his mind still reeling from the news. "Certainly."

"I know I stepped on your toes last time and you declared that you'd never dance with me again, but I should like to dance with you ever so much."

"Quite alright."

Gabe turned to look at his brothers in slight puzzlement who looked as baffled as he does. They recalled the stink when Charles had found the mud that had gotten on the polished surface of his new shoes.

"And you will come sit with us in the morning, won't you Charles?" Alex ventured, concerned for his friend. Charles never missed an opportunity to be surrounded by his admirers at his own table when it was more a game of musical chairs with how frequently the players changed seats.

"Of course," came the distracted reply.

Scott raised an eyebrow as his brothers turned to him for input. "And you will save a waltz for me, won't you?"

"Certainly." When there was no jibe following Scott's infatuation with Miss Grey, the Summers were worried by Charles. The brothers lingered on, speaking between them about the barbeque and the oncoming nuptial between Raven Darkholme and Henry McCoy, making jokes that ought to have made Charles smile, and speaking at length about Henry's obsession with science that ought to have stimulated some sort of response out of Charles but only garnered a quaint hum.

The Summers brothers must have realised how different the atmosphere was all of a sudden, as if all the energy had been sucked out of the air and left their earlier camaraderie built upon shared stories and laughter changed.

They couldn't quite put their finger exactly on what the air was suffused with, and reluctantly, when it became obvious to them that Charles was not going to invite them to stay for supper, the brothers made their excuses to leave. The hour had grown late; the sun lay low in the horizon casting a thin aura of gold over the hills towards the west and the dogwoods had gained height, inky black with eerie intent.

Scott turned to look for their human escort. "Oliver! Prepare the horses!" At his master's call, a slender, young man shot out of the house like a bullet and headed towards the bay horses without a word, untethering their leads with deft hands. Like the hounds that circled his ankles, Oliver was yet another part of the retinue that followed the Summers brothers wherever they chose to go. He was a few years older than that of Scott and given as a gift to him during his childhood years and a faithful servant. The brothers stood up and brushed off the dirt from the seats of their pants.

In parting, Scott and Gabe bowed from the waist. Their left hands were straight against their side and their right hands were crossed over their torso placed over their hearts, as customary for alphas. Alex's bow was different; his shoulders were pulled back when he bowed with his hands placed over his stomach, the right hand over the left with his thumbs touching to create a diamond of space where his bellybutton would be. Charles reciprocated the gesture, his posture and bow perfect as his mother had seen fit to teach him. They told Charles that they would likely be at the Darkholme's barbeque early and looked forward to talking with him some more come tomorrow. And then they were off at a brisk walk, down the bricked path to where Oliver was holding the reins of the four horses. Scott helped Gabe settle onto his mount's back before swinging into the saddle himself. Oliver hovered, double checking the cinches of the saddles and stirrups before he too mounted his horse. The party went down the dusty drive at a gallop, in between the dogwoods that lined the sides, pausing at the gate to wave at Charles.

Only when they had joined the main road and disappeared around the bend did Charles put his hand down and walked back inside the house. He made his way into the wicker chair on the back verandah and climbed in, pulling his feet up and wrapped his arms around his knees. His cheeks hurt from having maintained an unwilling smile on his face, but worse was the pain in his chest, in his heart. Here in the darkness of the evening, Charles could finally express himself however he wished without having to face any repercussions for his actions.

Raven could not possibly be marrying an omega like Henry, let alone be in love with him. Charles refused to believe it as he recalled a memory of Henry McCoy from his memory. There was nothing remarkable about Henry, shy and withdrawn with the thickest spectacles known to anyone as a result for his love of science that rivalled his own. Nobody could possibly hold any sort of deeper affection, especially not Raven, who was far too busy to have been in New London for very long in the past few months. Why Charles hardly ever saw her as it was and it simply could not possibly be true! No, Raven couldn't be in love with Henry because Raven was in love with him! Of that, Charles was certain that he was the omega for Raven just as she was the alpha for him. It must be a part of some elaborate joke played by Scott as repayment for the teasing he had endured about his relationship between him and Miss Grey. How unkind it was for Scott to have included young, impressionable Gabe into it all!

He heard the sound of Moira yelling at someone or another coming from the main hall, her voice distinct by the sound of her commanding accent. Although only a few years older than Charles himself, she dominated the Xavier household and ran it with a competence that was unparalleled. To her, the Xaviers were her own and a family that she would fiercely guard till the last of her days. There was no secret in the Xavier household that she did not know about, and if there were, it wouldn't remain a secret from her for very long. Charles knew from personal experience that when Moira was not satisfied with an answer, she knew the exact person to push and wouldn't hesitate to include both Sharon and Brian into the mix and Charles was loathe to lie at the best of times, but to do it to both was something that he would never be able to do. He could already hear her thoughts and hastily moved his feet off the chair, his posture changing to match.

And not a moment too soon. Moira emerged from the double doors, her hands on her hips. She was lithe of figure and almost of Charles' height possessing hazel eyes that were shrewd and like that of a hawk's, never missing anything in Westchester while she was the head of the servants. Her hair was cropped into a bob cut that was in a style more common for alpha females than human servants but no one had the courage to tell her what she could or could not do. Moira may be a human, but her sense of pride and self-worth was higher than any other mutant Charles has met, including himself. She had come to work for the Xavier family as a young girl working the kitchens, until Sharon had taken a shine to her. Moira was adored by Sharon. In turn, Moira chose to admonish her children often, and as Charles was her favourite out of the three Xavier children even though she insisted she never showed favouritism, the process of chastising Charles was neverending.

She came up to him, looking up and down the drive for any sign of the their guests. "Mr. Charles," Moira said after a pause. "Where are the Summers boys? Did you not ask them to stay for supper? Where are your manners? I told Logan to place an extra three seats at the table for them."

Charles merely shook his head, trying hard not to sulk. "I could hardly ask them to stay when I am just so sick and tired of hearing them talk about nothing but the war. Can you imagine what it would have been like over the course of supper, especially with Mother's interest on the topic at hand? Why I should imagine talk over dinner would be simply ghastly. I have heard quite enough about General Farouk to last me a life time."

"Now you listen here, Mr. Charles. Your manners are worse than that of the youngest of our apple pickers, even after all the work Mr. Brian has spent ensuring that you know what is proper." She paused here, undoubtedly looking him up and down to see some new fault of his. "And to think you are sitting out here when the night chill is starting to settle in, wearing nothing but your vest! You'll catch your death out here without a coat. Come back into the house this instant, Mr. Charles."

Charles turned his face away from the light that filtered out of the house with an air of indifference. He was thankful that Moira had not caught the expression on his face and rather pettily replied, "I want to wait for Mother to return first. She ought to be back any minute now from town. If you would be so kind as to go get my coat please, Moira."

Her voice was suspicious, as if she could practically smell the half-truths slipping from Charles' mouth. "You sure sound like you're about to catch a cold. It is warmer inside the house."

Charles shook his head adamantly, despite how true it was. "I'm fine. My coat, please." He heard her sigh under her breath as she headed back into the house, the stairs creaking minutes later underneath her footfalls. He stood up from his seated position from the wicker chair and ran a hand hastily through his hair, licking his lips to wet them. Sharon would know how true the rumours were as soon as she returned from town, doubtless with the news that she carried. Charles had a strict policy against reading anyone unless it was an emergency, and if the matters of the heart weren't urgent enough to warrant a break in his morals, then when was it ever a time or him to practise his telepathy?

If he got out of the chair and ran through the woods, looking towards the west, Charles could see the Darkholme Estate from Westchester. Thinking back on it now, Charles had never felt any sort of attraction for Raven when he was growing up. Raven had just been Raven and he had seen her go about her business as usual. And then all of a sudden, after a long drought when Charles had nearly all but forgotten what she had looked like, Raven had returned after joining the Young Alphas Union and a trip from Europe, stopping by Westchester with gifts and a fond word. In that moment, as Raven retold of her journey and stories, of all the interesting alphafolk and omegafolk she had met along the way, Charles had fallen in love and knew nothing else for two years.

Raven had looked resplendent in her clothes, practical jodphurs and a simple white shirt that set off the deep, plush colour of her blue scales. Her shoes gleamed polished to a fine sheen and the hat on her head had been in fashion in the sweeping streets of Italy - a gift from Raven - hung on the end of Charles' bed, off one of his bedposts as a constant reminder. She had smiled beautifully when she got off her horse, passing the reins to one of the beta stablehands that came forward, and the sun had set off the golden strands in her fiery red hair making her golden leonine eyes sparkle with intent. And then she had said, "It has been quite some time, Charles." She had practically skipped up the steps, taking one of Charles' hand in between her riding gloved ones and pressed a kiss to the back of his palm, an old alpha gesture that would have made most female omegas swoon but not Charles. Well, only a little. And the way she had said his name, a purr and a caress, like a prayer with a quiet reverence that fell from Raven's lips.

It had startled Charles at first at how deeply he wanted her, and he followed her around faithfully for days on end during those two years: days spent under the sun at Westchester or the Darkholme Estate, seated upon picnic blankets and idling the day away with reading or bantering. To be sure, Charles saw more of the Summers brothers than he did Raven, and he had demurely flirted with Scott until the discovery of Miss Jean Grey. And it would hardly be becoming for Charles to make any overtures at the younger alphas that visited. They hardly knew which end of a horse to look at!

And oh how he had wanted Raven during the first rush of his heat, and all the subsequent ones thereafter as he writhed upon his bedsheets, thinking about no one else but her. And never in these two years past had she done anything untoward except a soft, chaste kiss - his first! - on his seventeenth birthday. Never had Raven done anything more than hold his hand, a quiet wistful look on her face. She hadn't looked at him with the fire and voracity that Charles had seen in the eyes of some alphafolk in town when they started noticing his intelligent, blue eyes and lithe, youthful figure. And yet, Charles knew without a sliver of doubt that Raven loved him. Why had she never said anything about it then when it all seemed so obvious to him? There were so many things Charles wished to understand, this being one of the many facets of Raven Darkholme's character that would forever remain a secret.

She was wonderfully capable, a quiet competence that spoke of responsibility and a mutation that would see her go far in the Young Alphas Union and possibly the Brotherhood, should she choose to join it. She was the best of the best in all manners of alphafolk activities: riding, talking, hunting, drinking, gambling, dancing. But there was just something about her that set her apart. Perhaps it was her interest in things outside of that, the talk of science still bored her but she could keep up whenever Charles went on one of his tangents, and she was particularly fond of poetry even though she could not write much herself. With each visit, Charles anticipated that she would propose and finally - finally! - they would be wed and he would be with her child as soon as the ceremony was over. They would be happy, he convinced himself. But as sure as the unceasing tide laps against the shore, the next time came and the time after that, until all Charles had left was the unfailing feeling of optimism and hope that she would say something when she next visited him at Westchester, for he loved her and wanted her to be his completely and irrevocably in both heart and body. He could see it in her thoughts! For Charles was young, naively so, and knew that Raven would be his soon, soon.

And yet, the news of her betrothal to Henry. It shook his very foundations and wound around his heart like a vice, squeezing painfully. How could it be possible that his Raven was to marry an omega that was not him!

It had only been but a week since they were riding back from New London, Raven being Charles' courteous alpha escort along with the large hound that followed Charles faithfully. She had been cryptic in saying: "Charles, you know my affections for you, and I have something of utmost importance to say."

His heart had foolishly clenched then too, his mind dizzy for he believed this would be the one moment he had been waiting for. He remembered staring at the reins he held in his soft leather gloved grip, averting his eyes and waiting for the words that his heart had been prepared to hear all this time. But she had changed her mind. "Oh, look at how close we are to home. I shall have to put it off until the next time we meet, Charles." And without another word, Raven nudges her horse forward into a full-fledged gallop leaving Charles and his hound to race after her.

He sighed glumly into his hands and waited for his mother to return, straining his hearing for any signs of hooves pounding upon the earth. If he waited out here any longer, Charles was certain Moira would come outside brandishing his coat and somehow guilt him into returning inside the house. Then came the sound of skittish sheep and cattle being separated as the sound of Sharon Xavier returning home at top speed reached his ears.

Sharon Xavier was an exemplary horsewoman, sitting astride one of the finest horses Westchester had ever produced. She ran the horse over the hill, urging the long-legged hunter onwards, the white of the horse's mane and tail whipping up in the wind. Charles clenched his hands into his pants, his heart fluttering as he watched her jump one of the fences with flawless grace, letting out a sigh of relief when the horse hardly stumbles and recovers quickly enough to jump over the next two in succession.  There was something about his omega father's anxieties that was well-founded for it was indeed a dangerous sport. But one look at Sharon's face filled with guilty glee made up for it similar to the way Charles often dodged Moira's questions.

Sharon drew in the horse, carefully counting the strides till the last jump that would bring her onto the home straight. The horse planted its hind legs, muscles bunching in its hindquarters and then flew over the last fence like a flying squirrel soaring through the air, effortless. "Charles! You won't tell your father about this, will you? You aren't at all like Anna-Marie, who had the nerve to tattle on me last week to your father,"  Sharon asked as soon as she got close enough to dismount. Brian had often told Sharon to be careful when she had nearly broken her leg jumping a fence, his worry completely justified when it was Sharon’s neck on the line.

“Of course not, Mother.” Sharon beamed at him, pleased by his answer as she hastily fixed the cravat around her neck and set about smoothing her tousled hair back into some semblance of order; as if she could somehow preen herself to appear like a loving wife who had just ridden from town at a pace not faster than a trot. Charles hid a smile by tucking his lip between his teeth and helpfully pointed out at the crooked way her vest sat.

"Good boy." They slowly strolled back up to the house, her hand resting comfortably on the small of Charles' back. This close Charles could smell the sooty coal that came from visiting the train station, or there abouts where the finest bars and taverns were located. Undoubtedly, Sharon had been at her favourite to play cards with the rest of her alphafolks as was her usual style. Besides that was the underlying scent of horses and well-oiled leather, something that Charles liked to associate with his mother and had come to seek out in other alphas.

He stood back to run his eye over Sharon as soon as there was enough light coming from the house to see by. Sharon was stocky of stature, around the same height as her son, with her sandy blonde hair styled in short waves at a length that was fitting for alphas to wear it. Her dark navy vest matched her coat and pants, both ashy grey in colour, and she wore her pride and commanded attention like a second skin, respected not just for the crops Westchester yielded but also by her quick mind and razor sharp tongue, wielding her gift of empathy as a weapon. She treated her workers harshly, but fairly, and frowned upon the use of the whip that other owners saw fit to use upon their slaves, preferring to use gentle words sparingly. However, to keep up with appearances, Sharon often climbed to the tallest ladder amongst her apple pickers and bellow orders as a mere exercise for her lungs, a sight which caused them all to duck their heads to hide their grins away from the sun, and any passersby on the great dusty road to tut and carry on quickly to their destination.

Charles, after all, was her oldest child and only son, and with the knowledge that she would never have an alpha child in her household, had meant she treated him differently from that of his sisters. It was by unspoken decree that Charles would not speak of Sharon's drinking habits in town to Brian just as Sharon would not mention if she caught Charles sitting upon the front steps late with one admirer or another, instead taking upon the chastisement on herself, but never does this knowledge find itself in the hands of her husband or Moira. After all, nothing was worse than the way Brian would look at the them in disappointment.

He raised his hands and quickly teased the cravat back into place. "Better now," Charles stated, "and Father will be none the wiser. Although, you really must be more careful Mother. That jump could have-"

"I'll be having none of that, boy," Sharon sniffed, "after all, to jump or not to jump is my decision. Now what are you doing out here so late? And without your coat no less. You'll catch a chill if you aren't careful."

Spying the change in conversation for what it was, Charles merely looped Sharon's arm and allowed it. "I was waiting for your return from town. Have you any news?"

"Plenty of news. Come, let us walk in for supper." They walked in through the front door, the length of time required to undoubtedly sort through which was and was not important, especially fit for her son's ears. "The Drakes were welcoming in yet another member of their rather sizeable family, a young girl alpha, and then there--"

"And what of any new engagements?"

"Engagements you say?" Sharon hums thoughtfully. "Well now that you mention it, yes, I do believe so. Miss Raven Darkholme and Mr. Henry McCoy will announce their engagement tomorrow with the blessing of both their parents. Why the curiosity, boy?"

Charles feels his veins turn as cold as the ice that Bobby Drake could create, stunned and then he carefully schooled his features into something placid and demure. "It is nothing, Mother. Just gossip from today that I wanted proof for. We best be going inside lest Father wonders--"

"Now, Charles. You should never try to lie to your empath Mother. I can feel the guilt rolling off you." Charles winced at her words and should have known better, should have hidden it away better with his telepathy. "Why is it that you asked me about engagements? Did you accept a proposal that you failed to mention until now?"

"No!" Charles couldn't even fathom how his mother managed to make that certain jump in logic. "Like I said, it was just some news I heard from the Summers that I wanted to know if it were true for myself."

Sharon narrowed her eyes at him, looking him up and down and decidedly let it go. "Very well, boy. Good riddance I say. A weak of body omega like Mr. Henry will need someone like Miss Raven to look after him. I never did like her much, her head too far up in the clouds,"she paused for a moment, contemplative, "but nonetheless, they will make a fine couple. Now let us head to supper before your father thinks we are lost."

Charles slept miserably, his heart in knots over Raven’s engagement, but woke up refreshed before the sun rose, hit by an epiphany over the entire debacle. Of course Raven would accept the engagement offer. She had no idea about Charles’ affections for her! After all, Charles had always acted aloof around her, she certainly would not have read the undercurrent signs. There was still plenty of time before the announcement of the marriage, Charles would be able to ask Raven if her decision was sound, if there was genuinely no love between Raven and Hank then-. Well!  The possibilities were endless and surely by the end of the day's end it would be <i>his</i> engagement to Raven that would be announced.

Fueled by this knowledge, Charles began careful planning his actions at the barbeque, suddenly giddy and all a flutter. He would act as usual, nonchalant and highly desirable, as was his birthright and the very news itself of the engagement would not dishearten him. No doubt it would make Raven a little jealous if Charles flirted all the available alphas, including that of old Sebastian Shaw who his youngest adoptive sister Angel had her eyes set on, and that of Bobby Drake, the cousin of Henry McCoy himself. Once Raven saw how desirable Charles was in the eyes of all the alphas there, swarming around him like sharks scenting fresh blood - well, perhaps not that particular analogy, but the effect was intended - then surely Raven would propose to him. And if she did not, then Charles may be forced to take drastic actions into his own hands. He would of course take Raven someplace private, somewhere where they could be alone, and confess that out of all the alphas present, it was her that he desired. Certainly, he would never outright say that he was in love with her; that would hardly be proper, and be too bold and most un-omegalike.

From outside the slats of his window came the golden rays of the morning sun, amidst a sky so blue that it almost rivalled the colour of Charles' own eyes. But of course, today out of all days was not the time to admire the beauty of the morning sky. On his bed lay a dozen or so different combinations of clothing: cravats, dress shirts, cinched corset vests, overcoat, and pants all in a myriad of cuts, styles and colours. Discarded combinations lay in an assortment of rumpled states upon his floor over the fluffy area rug. His faithful hound lay on the window seat, head propped up on his big paws, watching his master with an air of bored disinterest.

It wouldn't do to appear less than elegant, especially when it came down to Henry and the casual grace he always wore. It was times like this that Charles was glad that he had not been born a Charlotte, for he would have had to worry not only about a barbeque dress, but also a dancing dress. He settled at long last for his gray overcoat that would accompany the rich blue sapphire of his corset vest highlighted by gold thread trim, and one that Charles adored as it showed off his small waist. Underneath the vest he was wearing the finest white ruffled shirt reserved for special occasions; and when one was getting proposed to definitely constituted as a special occasion. To go with the simple attire would be his best pair of dress pants the colour of midnight and to top it all off would be a silk cravat tied up into a simple bow.

Of course, getting into the corset vest required an extra pair of hands and none other than Moira possessed the appropriate amount of expertise in wrangling Charles into it. He yelled for her impatiently out the window, not waiting for an answering reply as he began unlacing the vest himself. The hour was hardly going to get any earlier and he could already hear Sharon shouting down at the stables to get the carriage ready.

"Moira!"

She walked in a few minutes later, a trayful of food that she intended to stuff Charles full with. Charles spied upon it some of his favourite honey cakes and smoked meat, narrowing his eyes as he recognized the game that Moira was playing. The expression on her face spoke of someone who was prepared and ready to argue as long as it took Charles to eat something. It was an age old argument that they have been rehashing for several years now, with Charles growing more obstinate with each passing ball or party.

"No. I am not eating anything, Moira. I need to be able to fit into this corset vest and not look like a, a whale!"

Moira appeared to have no qualms, hands firmly on her hips as she glared back with equal force. "You will and I am not above using any methods necessary." Angel and Anna-Marie were like obedient lambs in Moira's eyes, quietly accepting any and all criticisms Moira had towards their behaviour. Much easier to deal with than their brother who seemed to derive pleasure in butting heads with the very same judgement, especially on matters that was suitable and desirable omega traits to be nurturing. Each and every lesson that Charles had to swallow and choke down was taught by a mixture of Moira's determination and Brian's tenacity.

"No, you won't," Charles replied as he smoothed down the front of his ruffled shirt. "We haven't the time for me to sit down and eat, and I have decided that I will eat as much as I want today at the barbeque."

"I will not have you sully the Xavier name by guzzling alcohol like a fish and gobbling food like an untrained dog. You will eat now and nothing else later on," Moira retorted. They glared irritably at one another, neither back an inch until Charles finally looked away.

"Fine. Help me lace up my corset vest first," Charles said as he brandished the vest like a cutlass. "I hardly think I could lace tight enough if I ate now. We shall see how much I'll eat after that."

Moira smirked in victory as she set the tray down and plucked the vest out of Charles' outstretched hand. "What else are you wearing with this?" He gestured vaguely to the set at the end of the bed, preening a little on the inside when Moira nods at his choices and gave her assent. She took a hold of either end of the leather laces in her hands like that of a horse's reins. The only warning Charles got before he was clinging to the bedpost for dear life, sucking in his stomach was a: "Brace yourself". Moira gave a mighty tug; the smaller the thin metal boning in the corset vest became, the prouder the look in Moira's eyes shone. It was a push and pull, the male corset a direct comparison from that of its female counterpart for Charles had no flattering bosom to show off except an enviable waist that flared out into hips designed to bear children.

"Hurry up! Please stop wasting time for if I do not find an alpha, it would be your fault for making me late to the barbeque!" Charles snapped irritably, his voice wheezing as speaking became more and more difficult.

Moira hemmed and hawed as Charles' casual threat rolled off her without any effect. "There! I will not be the cause for your late arrival if you do not finish what is on the plate." Charles took in shallow breaths, testing her handiwork until things resumed a level of normalcy, gesturing towards the rest of his clothes with an impatient flap of his hand. Moira carefully held the trousers for Charles to step into, brushing the legs of the fabrics for any invisible dust lingering on the hem - not that there would be, for Moira ran the cleaning staff with an iron fist. With the coat firmly in its place, Charles sat down in front of the tray, wondering if it was physiologically possible to consume any and still be able to breathe after his first bite of a honey cake.

Moira hovered nearby as she ran a comb through his unruly hair, combing it with economical strokes as he ate through three cakes and a slice of smoked ham.

"Why is it that omegafolk are expected to bear more children than possess sense, Moira?" Charles asked in between swallows of food. "Why can't I do and say whatever I wish?  I hardly care what other people think of me."

"Alphafolk expect to be followed and expect their spouses to do as they're told," said Moira. "Headstrong, do-as-they-please omegas like yourself will be wise to learn when to hold your tongue! Now eat the last plain cake with the last of the gravy like a good lad." Charles split the cake in half and ran it through the sauce before popping it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. He knew plenty of omegas who were equally as clever as alphas, if not cleverer. His father for instance was much learned in the ways of running Westchester and it was he that the workers tended to listen to. Perhaps it was generations of the same thinking, from parent to offspring, that perpetuated this sort of thinking. Perhaps there was some truth to what Moira was saying. Charles frowned as he nibbled on the plain cake, wondering if perhaps Raven would be more receptive if he appeared more demure, acted more omegaly. More like Henry. The idea turned in his stomach. If an alpha simply liked him for some simpering omega act he put on then it was not an alpha that was worthy of his affections. Flattery could get anyone anywhere, but empty compliments would not win Charles' heart.

As Charles sat in the backseat of the carriage staring out the window, ignoring his sisters who giggled incessantly and thought far too loudly about seeing their alpha beaus, moodily wondering if his plan to convince and ensnare would actually work. There was no one attending the barbeque that would be able to stop him; Brian was in the middle of a cross pollination experiment and doing the accounts and Moira was to remain at Westchester where her services were required as the head of all the help. This suited Charles perfectly fine as he would not be guilted into reconsidering with a look or a subtly raised eyebrow. And come tomorrow, his family would either know of his engagement to Raven or not hear of it at all if they planned on eloping.

Regardless, it was Sean, one of the mutant beta servants recently acquired by Sharon, who sat in the seat next to Logan's up top. His arms laden full of boxes filled with Angel and Anna-Marie's afternoon dresses reserved for dancing later in the day. Atop of her usual mount, Sharon rode alongside them looking resplendent and well put together. Charles could tell she was looking forward to mingling with some of the other alphas and to share the wealth of knowledge about the war that she gleaned yesterday from her forays into town.

Charles knew she would most likely be drunk before the sun set, especially without Brian there to moderate her intake, and hoped to the deities above that she possessed enough sense to take the carriage and hitch her horse along before they returned to Westchester. He also knew that Brian would likely wait up for them, seated in the front hall with a duvet around his shoulders and a large scientific tome in his lap, Moira hovering anxiously by his side like a mother hen waiting for all her chicks to come home.

He watched as the world crawled by, smiling indulgently to himself as he committed things to memory: the sound of the horses' hooves upon the dusty packed earth, the rickety shake of the carriage counterpoint to the chattering of his sisters, the sweet scent of flowers in the breeze that wafted through the open windows, and the colour of the bright azure sky where fluffy white clouds chased one another indolently. Charles could not have asked for a better day than this to get engaged and perhaps even wed on.

As the tall spires atop the roof of the Darkholme Estate peeked over the hill, Charles' stomach was filled with apprehension and a giddy sense of excitement. If elopement wasn't going to occur, then Charles was convinced that the handsome exterior of the Darkholme Estate was almost as darling as that of Westchester. The idea of witnessing more days like this on the vast and beautifully kept grounds of the Darkholme Estate was not unpleasant; it brought a smile to Charles' face.

"I don't know why you are so happy today," Anna-Marie said, possibly still bitter that Charles had his own corset vests that were unshareable with his sisters. She was convinced that had it been made to fit the female figure, she would have been able to pull off the blue better than he could. And maybe also because Father obviously picked favourites, even if he was being diplomatic about things. "You know for a fact that Raven will be engaged, and I know you've been pining for her since you returned from Omega Academy. She's already chosen her omega."

Charles refused to let her words affect him, instead choosing to take in a deep breath of flower sweetened air. By the time the carriage finally drew to a stop inside the Darkholme Estate and the excited barks of the Xavier hounds filled the air, Charles couldn't decide whether his head hurt from the number of voices inside his mind or if it hurt at the possibility of being unable to orchestrate his meeting with Raven. His lips were pulled downwards in an unattractive manner as he pondered this conundrum, knowing that it just would not do for Raven to see him with such an expression on his countenance and he only had the time between when Logan tethered the carriage horses and returned to open the door to tease his frown away into something more attractive.

The earlier floral scents of spring were quickly replaced by the heavy scent of charcoal burning and spiced meat turning on a large spit, the oil and fat dripping from the glazed crackling causing the red embers to hiss. Plumes of grey smoke curled in rivulets up towards the sky as people wandered the lawns of the Darkholme, filling the space with talk and laughter. Mrs. Leonora Darkholme, Raven's omega mother, disliked the cloying scent of charcoal and meat in the halls of her home, and quite rightly so! It took careful planning upon the parts of Ramsay Darkholme and his daughter to ensure that not even the slightest breeze would bring a whiff into Leonora's finely kept home, a difficult feat to manage had they not someone in their employ that could control the wind. For no one would ever dance in the grand ballroom if it reeked of ash!

The door to the carriage opened as soon as Logan dealt with Sharon's mount and carefully each of the Xavier children stepped down to join the line of guests being greeted personally by Ramsay Darkholme. There were long picnic tables made of the finest oak that sat underneath the shade, white linen tablecloths covering the surfaces with silver cutlery glinting in the dappled sunlight. An assortment of chairs and cushions were scattered upon the grass, an alternative for those that disliked rubbing elbows so intimately. The eating area was far enough away from the smoke of the meat pits and the long winding lines of the hungry guests all clamouring for the McCoy family's special barbeque sauce and a hearty serving of meat, stew and vegetables. Casks of Westchester's apple cider always made its way into any sort of social gathering and plenty of the Darkholme's household help were on hand to take away dirty dishes and serve the guests.

The closer Charles got towards the tables and the scent of roasted meat, the more his mouth watered. He hoped by the time that the meat was done, there would be room enough in his stomach for at least a nibble or two of pork crackling. The food that Moira had filled him with earlier would likely last until then as it would be unseemly to eat now, not when Moira had struggled to cinch his waist in.

Angel and Anna-Marie were antsy to melt away into the crowd, likely to track down their respective beaus as they buzzed with energy. But with Sharon in their immediate vicinity, they dared not to run off to do as they pleased. Not that it was Charles' responsibility to keep track of what his adoptive sisters got up to, but he trusted them not to make utter fools out of the family name and themselves. Up at the house, the older folk - mostly omegas - sat inside the breezy sitting room, sipping tea and daintily nibbling on finger food as they gossiped fiercely with everyone and anyone. The alphafolk, on the other hand, tended to loiter outside underneath the wide veranda, holding glasses of cool apple cider in their hands. Charles could see the Summers brothers there, with Alex stubbornly standing next to his father and Scott. There were the Drakes and Sebastian Shaw, talking about the price of lumber loud enough that Charles, who had no desire to listen, could hear. Raven was not lurking amongst them, much to Charles' express disappointment.

Ramsay Darkholme stood proudly and tall at the front of the line, flame-red hair streaked white with age and curious gold eyes twinkling with mischief. There was no doubt where Raven got her looks from. Organising a get together of this magnitude was difficult and there was reason for Ramsay, one of New London's better hosts, exuding an air of warm hospitality that was welcoming to one and all.

"I cordially invite and welcome to my home, the Darkholme Estate, Master Sharon."

"Thank you for extending your generosity to the Xavier family, Master Ramsay."

They bowed simultaneousy, as was tradition for the head alpha of each family to be politely greeted first using formal titles that was slowly becoming redundant and replaced by the casual use of Mister, Misses and Miss. It was a tradition that Charles would miss; there was a certain charm to be called young Master rather than just simply Mister. They exchanged a few lines of small talk, whereby Sharon explained the circumstances of Brian unfortunately being absent today.

Ramsay was magnanimous and understanding. "There shall be other opportunities, Master Sharon. I bid you and young Master Charles, and young Mistresses Angel and Anna-Marie to enjoy yourselves." Charles and his sisters smiled, a chorus of thanks to Master Ramsay, and bobbed elegantly into their omega bows, the girls adding a more traditional curtsy bob in the legs. What set Ramsay apart from some of the other hosts was his impeccable memory for names and that wasn't even using any psionic ability!  When he became Raven's husband, Charles knew he would become one of the best hosts New London will ever observe. Telepathy, after all, had its perks. They moved away such that Ramsay could greet the next family that fluidly replaced them.

Alex spotted him first as Charles accompanied his mother towards the porch, elbowing Gabe to following him as he walked up to greet them.

"Hello Mrs. Xavier," the Summers bowed. Sharon had always had a soft spot for them and bowed, a wry smile on her face.

"Hello, boys. I hope you've been enjoying yourselves. I trust you'll keep Charles away from any trouble he may find himself in." With a pointed look that spoke volumes - one that Charles chose to ignore - Sharon moved away to locate some cider and her usual group of alphas.

He turned to Alex and Gabe with a broad smile on his face. "Alex, Gabe!  How wonderful to see you both. You're here early."A younger flock of the McCoy omega girls and boys came over, marvelling at the way Charles looked so very handsome in his corset vest, and of such a very royal blue! He fended them off with a casual smile, keeping the conversation on topics that he could navigate as well as the back of his hand as he surreptitiously looked about the lawn for any signs of Raven and Henry. He could not even find Anna-Marie's Bobby Drake in amongst the crowd and tried not to feel too disappointed as the McCoys slowly herded them inside to the cooler part of the house. There were plenty of people in the house, all in their little circles talking about the most superficial of matters and, of course, the ever present threat of war breaking over their heads.

Charles darted glances about the large front hall, with its swirling staircases and found his gaze falling onto a stranger standing off the side by his lonesome, his intense grey eyes quite transfixed upon Charles that it made him squirm on the inside, flushing with pleasure for having attracted such a gentleman and quite obviously an alpha from the way he was dressed. Charles had never seen anyone like him around these parts of New London and he liked to think he knew just about everyone with just how well connected his family was. This man was tall and with a broad set of shoulders that filled out his tailored suit well. His face was lean, however, and if Charles had to estimate, he doesn't look older than thirty. And when he caught Charles' eye, he smiled in a manner that made Charles feel every inch the omega that he was, like a deer about to fall victim to its prey with a set of teeth that was both white and even. Charles thought the deep lines on his face and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled made him quite handsome, in a superficial kind of way. There was a wry kind of humour behind the way he smiled, as if there was something particularly funny that only he was privy to and Charles could not help but to fall into this man's orbit, his breath catching momentarily in his chest. He did not know who this man thought himself to be, and by all means he ought to feel insulted by the way he was being so brazenly leered at (nevermind that Charles was guilty of doing the same). And yet, Charles scrambled to find the appropriate amount of insult for being ogled in such a manner, for he could not even deny that being looked at by this man, with the handsome set of his nose and a jawline that really had no business of being that attractive, was in fact a guilty pleasure.

The moment, their connection, was broken when someone called for the man: "Lehnsherr! Captain Erik Lehnsherr, you scallywag. Come here and meet one of the finest omegas in Genosha."

Charles blinked and in that moment the man was gone, dragged away by someone or another. That name, Erik Lehnsherr, didn't ring any bells inside Charles' immediate memory, although that wasn't cause for concern. Not really anyway.

"Come along, Alex, Gabe. I insist that we run along upstairs. I must look a fright," Charles declared, pulling both of them along without listening to either of their complaints. He was stopped halfway up the wide stairs when Bobby Drake greeted him with a quiet, shy smile on his face. Charles knew his sister Anna-Marie was sweet on Bobby, and he could sort of see the appeal in the younger alpha's clean shaven face with his earnest brown eyes the colour of milk chocolate. Had Bobby been more savvy with the art of flirtation, Charles probably wouldn't have entertained the thoughts of teasing him were he not flushed with joy every time Charles deemed to smile brightly at him with. For Bobby was one of the rarer types of alphafolk, shy and seen by all the omegas as a little brother. Bobby had always wanted omegas to flirt with him as they did the other alphas, but had always been at a loss for words when they turned their attentions upon him with a smile and he had just gaped at them like a dead fish. Charles ran his mental fingers often through Bobby’s thoughts often, for practise, and to see what the young alpha got up to; Charles knew that Bobby would forgive him of this indiscretion if he ever found out. From there, he saw Bobby laid out in his bed at night, staring up at the ceiling thinking about what he could have done or could have said in order to charm the omegafolk.

 

And then there was of course the matter of Charles' adoptive sister - Anna-Marie's crush on him - and her overtures and hints about one day become Mrs. Bobby Drake. She was a pretty girl, brown hair streaked with white with dark brown eyes and a womanly figure that she was slowly growing into. Bobby couldn't take her seriously though for she was an omega of that certain age who was completely alpha-crazy, chasing after suitors whenever she could at a grand ball or a weekend barbeque and Bobby himself never thought he would be able to compete. Simply put, he felt Anna-Marie was still far too young and spirited to be excited by the prospect of marrying her, nothing of the wild romance depicted in his books that would be guaranteed such as the time that he took a beautiful, mischievous creature into his bed and into his life to love and cherish.

How could he handle it when Charles Xavier stands before him, a coquettish smile upon his face, holding his hands and teases him for doing something like breaking his heart!  

Why he would never, Bobby tried to tell him, instead already clamming up when in close proximity and already infinitely glad that Charles had continued talking. There was once an alpha that had stated that omegas were a necessity, not just for perpetuating and continuing blood lines, but also for their abilities to act as society's grease.

"Save a spot for me at the table, won't you?  I so dearly wish for us to eat together," Charles said with a generous smile; Bobby mutely nodded, watching as Charles turned around and began climbing up the stairs. Charles only made it about halfway when he paused, his eyes falling upon Erik Lehnsherr once more who apparently had not been whisked away as Charles had suspected, but had instead relocated to stand at the bottom of the stairs looking up at Charles with a most lascivious smile on his lips. Charles felt put on the spot, as if this alpha knew each and every one of his darkest secrets as his eyes dragged slowly over Charles' body in a way that lacked any sense of propriety and burned with an intense desire that Charles never knew could exist. It was in those eyes that ensnared Charles, stripping him bare unlike any other alpha had managed to achieve. He was lost in his own thoughts for several minutes until the combined calls of Alex and Gabe pulled him free, quickly turning around and hastened up the last of the steps.

In one of the bedrooms dedicated to hold all the afternoon dresses and the shawls, they encountered one of the biggest gossips in New London for there was nothing that happened on Genosha that St. John Allerdyce did not know about, and he was far too busy preening in the mirror to notice.

"St. John," greeted Charles as he stood beside him, staring ruefully at his hair. "Do you happen to know of that man downstairs who goes by the name of Erik Lehnsherr?"

St. John smiled, an excited gleam in his eye for he did love to gossip almost as much as he liked to set things on fire. "Have you not heard?" he whispered conspiratorially. "Well, clearly not. That man was visiting someone or another - I do believe it was with Mr. Drake - earlier this morning about purchasing something or another and it had appeared rude to them had Mr. Drake not brought him along. And the most peculiar thing-"

"Yes?" For Charles knew there must be something wrong with that man.

"The most peculiar thing is, he was not received by Mr. Darkholme!" Charles blinked once, his heart beating quicker for it as he had never been in the presence of someone that had not been welcomed.

"Do tell me more!"

"Well, he's not from around Genosha, apparently he is quite travelled, and no one knew of him until a summer past. There whereabouts of his family are unknown and nobody knows if he has any next of kin. He is quite a sly devil. All the omegafolk thought he was quite dashing when he first arrived in New London until we received news. He was about to settle down out in Marsfield with, well, who I cannot say but you can imagine that the omega was not properly educated for accepting a ride out in his buggy."

"Without an alpha chaperone?" Alex gasped and quickly covered Gabe's ears who looked put out for not hearing the rest of the story.

"Precisely! It was told that they stayed out all night and eventually walked home after, apparently, the horse spooked and they had gotten lost. He refused to marry her thereafter! Of course, Mr. Lehnsherr said he never did anything untoward to the omega, but apparently had an epiphany that he never wished to marry such a fool. You can imagine how much uproar that caused in Marsfield, for such an alpha to take from an omega like that - quite ruined she was after. Her brother was furious and sought to restore the honour to the family name. Mr. Lehnsherr still refused to marry and insisted that he'd prefer to be shot. So they settled it with a duel and Mr. Lehnsherr killed the omega's brother, and had to leave Marsfield for this deed. His reputation precedes him now for nobody will receive him that knows the tale."

St. John left them with a nod when one of the beta servants walked in and Charles exchanged a look with Alex, one mixed with mortification. Oh, but if only Raven had been more like Lehnsherr! Charles could not help but respect the decision for refusing to marry an omega who was such an obvious fool.

They sat upon an assortment of cushions underneath the shadow of the large oak tree. Alex and Charles' hounds laid out with their belly to grass watched carefully as alphas came and went. The air was warm, filled with conversation and laughter, as children ran about chasing one another and the olderfolk discussed matters of war, politics and child bearing tips.

Charles tried not to sulk too obviously into his plate of food, his appetite certainly would have made Moira more than happy. So far his plan had not worked as well as he had planned, for he had not seen Raven without Henry upon her arm ever since he had arrived at the Darkholme Estate. To be sure his plan wasn't a complete failure, for the alphas came and went as easy as the tide which was something that both infuriated Alex as much as it enchanted him. Gabe, on the other hand, enjoyed the eating aspect of the barbeque more than the socialising, but Charles was sure Gabe would come into his own when omegas started to interest the boy more.

She had greeted Charles as soon as she stepped out into the back garden with Alex and Gabe in tow, a warm smile upon her face that matched the sincere one upon Henry's. Henry was only a few years younger than Charles himself but easily loomed over the tallest of alphas with his height. It was difficult to have known that such a omega with luxurious blue fur could ever be as timid as a mouse, a direct contrast to his more leonine features. Henry tended to avert his eyes often, prone to diverting any judgement to that of Raven's opinion.

Although despite Henry's obvious physical mutations and his shy nature, there was something about the easy, graceful way he moved that belied his age. Henry was dressed plainly in browns and beiges that complimented well with his fur, the cravat he wore upon his neck was a simple white ruffle. It was difficult to tell, underneath all that fur, the proper dimensions of his waist. His eyes glowed golden and if there were ever a couple that matched perfectly, Charles had to begrudgingly admit that Raven and Henry did.

Charles couldn't help but look over every so often at where Raven and Henry sat, removed from the rest of their guests. Raven sat upon a cushion by one of Henry's feet. She had helpfully removed Henry's shoes and was massaging them between her hands with a fond smile upon her face, the same one that Charles had come to love and cherish. It didn't help matters at all when Henry looks equally as fond with a twinkle in his eye. They looked at one another in a manner that could only be called loving.

In the end, Charles redoubled his efforts with his circle of alphas, laughing, joking and teasing them in turn, blushing when complimented. He was undoubtedly the center of attention with the heated gazes he attracted from both alpha and omegas alike, but both for very different reasons. And yet, Raven never paid any attention in their direction. She only talked and looked at Henry, and Henry in turn looked at him with an expression that could only mean that he belonged to her.

The noon slowly clawed its way into the afternoon and Charles kept casting his eyes across to Raven to see if she had taken any notice. She had not, for she was busy teasing at Hank's cravat. If there was ever a time that he was sorely tempted to use his telepathy, it would be now. But, his moral code forbade him to do something so incredibly petty as to overhear their thoughts. He could not bear it if Raven indeed told Henry that she loved him, let alone think it.

He scanned the crowd and found his eyes caught by that of Erik Lehnsherr once more. Lehnsherr was not seated amongst the rest of the guests, but rather standing apart talking to Ramsay Darkholme with a glass in his hand. They stood underneath the awning, conversing in quiet tones. He had been watching him and from the looks of things this man was the only one who knew the reason behind Charles' wild flirtings with Bobby Drake and was deriving much amusement from it. He tried not to glare outright, instead turning about face and returning to his conversation with Bobby.

After all, there would be an afternoon sojourn where all the omegas will head upstairs to take a nap in order to be fresh for a night of dancing. Which, in Charles' mind, would be a prime time to speak with Raven alone. Bobby, on the other hand, was stoked that such an accomplished omega such as Charles would even be willing to pay attention to him. It was cruel to some of the other alphas that sat confused for Bobby was rather unremarkable and everyone knew he was often quiet. But here Charles was, speaking to him with enthusiasm and favouring him over some of the more suitable alphas above all else. It was unheard of, and the effects of which was starting to show in between the increasingly strained words the alphas were adding to the conversation.

The afternoon sojourn could not have come at a better time. The servants came forth in a rush to clear the tables of the food and dirty dishes. The languor of the midday sun affected omegas and alphas alike, universally making everyone - except the most spirited of the younger alphas - drowsy with their bellies filled with good food. Conversation was beginning to die down, lulling to a comfortable silence.

The alphas within Charles' circle eventually moved on when the talk of war began to start, a topic of conversation that was far more stimulating than the idle talk of muslin and silk. And both Summers brothers went with them for a cider refill and to see what and where Scott had ended up, leaving Bobby relatively alone with Charles. He warred within himself for he had never quite seen an omega quite as stunning as that of Charles Xavier and doubted he would get another chance to say the things he has always carried close to his heart, the courage of new found love and Charles' clear affections for him all afternoon long.

"Mr. Xavier," for Bobby knew his manners as well as the back of his hand, "I- if there comes to a point where war breaks out, I have decided that I would fight for the good of Genosha. I know my abilities would come in handy on the battle front and I would not be able to live with myself had I known that I could have done something to help win this war."

Charles blinked in surprise, his mouth falling open in surprise. Bobby looked like he was imparting something of utmost importance, wearing his heart on his sleeve, and Charles hoped his face looked the sympathetic part even as he does not harbour any interest in an oncoming war and certainly hoped there would not be any fighting involved.

"But before that happens, I must tell you something. Dearest Mr. Xavier, I- I am in love with you."

Those very words were the ones Charles had longed to hear for far too long, and yet they came out of the mouth of someone else. And then there was the small matter of his own sister pining after Bobby that doesn't make any of this sit right.

"Um."

"I- I know it may seem sudden. But I have felt this way for a very long time. You are the most beautiful omega I have ever known and the kindest and the sweetest, and before I knew it, you had made your way into the very depths of my heart. Oh, dearest  Mr. Xavier, if I knew you could ever love someone like me, I would do my utmost to make you happy for the rest of your life. I- I wish to marry you!"

The word 'marry' jolted something within Charles. He had longed for the days that he would become Mr. Raven Darkholme, and now this besotted fool wished to claim him for his own? Marriage proposals were not uncommon to Charles, and he had turned down alphas who were more attractive and affluent than this boy, with all his puppy love and the sickening look of adoration on his face that spoke of an inherent happiness.

"I do not know what to say, Mr. Drake. This is quite an honour that you have given me of becoming your husband, but I'm afraid I am aptly speechless and do not know what to say currently." Charles immediately knew he had to coax the direction of Bobby's affections onto that of his sister. The words would able to keep an alpha's pride from being ruffled and yet-

"This will not be a problem for I can wait an eternity for your answer, Mr. Xavier!  Please tell me that there will be a day when you will consider becoming-"

Charles quietly hushed Bobby, a small flush on his cheeks, for he had spotted Raven still seated by Henry's side with a bright smile on her face, refusing to stand up and migrate over the talks of the war. Oh, how could such a shy omega like Hank keep someone like Raven interested?

Bobby looked abashed by Charles' admonishment, looking over as Bobby spots his cousin Henry, an omega that he had grown up with and considered as his own brother. Perhaps Charles was afraid that someone would be able to overhear their words, even though it was well within Charles' power to ensure that doesn't happen with his powerful gift. And yet, Bobby couldn't help the small thrill running up through his spine, for it was the first time that any omega had been embarrassed to the point of turning pink.

All of this happens unbeknownst to Charles as he was far too busy listening in to the sounds of Raven and Henry laughing and discussing the merits of Mr. Charles Dickens. Raven looked pleased by how well Henry could argue the finer points of Mr. Dickens' writing style and only paused mid-discussion when one of her alpha uncles

"Raven! Do come over and tell us of your opinion, won't you?  Let someone else monopolise your omega bride for a change!" Sebastian Shaw crowed loudly to the raucous laughter of the older alphafolk.

Sebastian Shaw possessed a mutation that kept him looking youthful, the ability to store and utilize kinetic energy, and as such he was also the owner of one of the bigger lumber mills in New London. No one ever dared to cross Shaw's bad side, and Charles had to begrudgingly admit that Shaw was charming when he wanted to be. Raven looked apologetic as she made her excuses to Henry, rising gracefully onto her feet. Charles couldn't help but to note how the sunlight made her red hair blaze vibrantly and admired the way she walked with purpose that made all the alphas stop and stare.

"If there comes a day when I am required to take up arms, then I will. Why else would I have joined the Young Alphas Union?" she paused for a moment, her eyes filled with an intensity that usually simmered underneath her blue skin. "Any chance of a peaceful negotiation has long passed. I can only hope that if we do go to war, it will be a short one." There was an indignant chorus of rebuttals and to Raven's credit, she never once flinched.

"Nothing good ever comes out of war, and we will all return changed. Some of us may never return at all. There is no honour, there is no grandeur. There is only death and hunger and praying that your sword, your claws, that you are quicker than your opponent." The group of alphas begun a spirited discussion, some agreeing with Raven and others vehemently being that their side would never, could never suffer any casualties.

Charles's eyes swept over those that still lingered outside, to the omegas seated in a circle talking to one another excitedly, to the alphas who were about to start their own re-enactment of some war past right there and then; it was a hurricane of emotions and thoughts that Charles was glad to be shielding from. His eyes land on Erik Lehnsherr, who stood a little ways away with his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, leaning against the trunk of the tree. With his conversation apparently finished with Mr. Darkholme, Lehnsherr now watched the discussion with his lips drawn into a thin line, a wry sort of contempt in the turn of his lips.

Charles watched as Lehnsherr opened his mouth. "If I may, gentlemen," he said in an accent that belied his heritage overseas, "would I be be able to say a word?" There was disdain in the way Lehnsherr held himself and in the way he spoke, that Charles must have been the only one aware of.

The alphas all turned towards Lehnsherr as one, all with varying degrees of cold politeness upon their faces. After all, Lehnsherr was an outsider who would know nothing of their customs.

"I am certain a number of you are well travelled, some of you have even been outside of Genosha and some of you may have only gone so far as the borders of New London. Perhaps you have taken a trip down to the beaches out by Hammer Bay or a more scenic trip further north out past Chatswood. But the question I propose is thus, you may have seen the sights, the hotels and grand balls that they had to offer, but return convinced that New London is the best. That there is no place like home after all. But you see, I am a man that has travelled the world before I came to Genosha, and I stayed in Marsfield for a few years." The grin that accompanied that comment, as though he knew everyone present had already heard of his sordid affairs there, and cared not a whit if they had this knowledge. "The Resistance out number us and there are are so many humans and betas coming to Genosha that would be more than happy to join them, work for them, build factories and quarries and work on an assortment of weaponry. What are we? A bunch of farmers, horse breeders and cotton growers with a mash of extraordinary gifts that may or may not prove helpful in the battlefield. We hold the advantage for now, until they find us wearied or find a cure. Then we are as mortal as any beta or human. We'd be sitting ducks without any sort of formal military training."

For a long while, nobody spoke. Charles stared, as the minds of everyone buzzed like the bees in Father's apiary. Although his cheeks flushed with indignation for having such a man address the respected alphas in such a manner, there was undeniably a grain of truth behind Lehnsherr's words that appealed to Charles' common sense. Although if it were true, Lehnsherr was not making any new friends here.

As if sensing he may have stood on some tails, Lehnsherr turned to Ramsay Darkholme and said magnanimously, "If you would be ever so kind to point me in the direction of your library as you have promised. There is business I must attend to in the afternoon and you would be doing me a favour if it is not an inconvenience."

Charles watched as Lehnsherr walked off, tracing the way Lehnsherr towered over Ramsay Darkholme before both alphas disappeared from view. The silence that followed soon dissipated and one by one the married omegas were calling for the help as their little ones fell asleep underneath the warm rays of the sun. Charles walked with Alex, Gabe tucked safely in his hold, as they headed towards one of the upstairs bedrooms where the afternoon naps were to be held.

Charles pressed himself against the balustrades and crept along the stair landing. All the omegas were upstairs asleep and Charles had felt justified to use his telepathy to ensure no one would wake up when he snuck out of the room. He crept quietly down the stairs, careful not to step upon any of the creaky ones and paused on the bottom one, unsure of where to go next. The alphas had yet to retire back into the house and undoubtedly there would be far too many questions asked if any of them were to spot him. The servants twittered behind the wall of the dining room, setting the crockery and the cutlery for the night's activities.

The library door was open and Charles quickly darted in, closing the door behind him until only a crack was left open and feeling thankful that the doors were well oiled. The Darkholme library was dimly lit where light crept in underneath the cracks at the bottom of the drawn blinds. Books lined a number of shelves but it was not as expansive as the one the Xaviers owned back at home. Yet, the smell was about the same: of leather and pages and ink; a homely smell that Charles adored. Tall-backed chairs and an assortment of ottomans were scattered around the place, all designed for comfort, but the center-piece of the room was the long couch at the far end that faced the unlit hearth, like a slumbering bear in the shadows.

Charles pressed his forehead against the cool doorframe and sighed to himself, trying to find the words within him to convey exactly what he wished to say to Raven once she came inside the house and they were alone together.

"Pull it together, Charles... You're an Xavier."

"Charles? What are you doing here?" asked Raven, standing out in the hallway and looking through the crack with confusion written on her face."Are you hiding from someone?"

"I- no. I have something I wished you tell you for some time," Charles took a calming breath in, "I love you."

Raven paused for the longest moment, and Charles doesn't dare to breathe or meet her eye just yet. His heart fluttered against his rib cage and for a long glorious moment, he felt freer than he had in a long time. Although it was a brazen declaration that went against everything Moira and Brian had taught him, and to a still-as-of-yet-to-be-announced-engaged alpha, Charles was proud of himself.

"Are you so hell-bent on ruining the hearts of every young eligible alpha?" Raven teased. There was something else visible in her face that looked awfully like dismay, but it was smoothed away by the graceful smile on her face. "Well, I should think you've always had my heart in your hands."

Charles frowned for a long moment for it was not the reaction that he sought. Where was the ardent declaration of love in return? Why was Raven teasing him in such a manner? Charles could not understand why it was not going as he had planned, and here Raven was acting as if he was flirting with her.

"Your heart, Raven? Please, you must understand the seriousness with which I say these words, my lo--"

Raven's finger was placed over his lips, effectively silencing him. She was now frowning at him, disappointment written all over her face.

"Charles. I cannot hear these words and you cannot say them. And you must not put such meaning behind things that will one day have you hating me and hating yourself!"

"I do not understand, Raven. I- Don't you wish to marry me?"

Raven shook her head emphatically. "I am marrying Hank. Our engagement is being announced tonight and I never thought- Charles, I thought you understood that we were never meant to be. Why, I quite thought everyone already knew for years. I care for you, Charles, yes, but you have so many suitors..."

"If you cared for me, why can't you be with me?" Charles asked, his eyebrows drawn up in earnest. Everything he has worked and planned for right up until this moment spurned on by the idea and the truth that he was in love with Raven.

"Oh, Charles. In any successful alpha and omega pairing, one must build it upon a foundation of trust and like hobbies. Charles, you are clever and beautiful but one day you will meet an alpha who is ready to give you everything, his body, his heart, his soul, his everything. If an omega were not to receive such things, they would grow up certainly quite miserable. And you deserve all the happiness, Charles." Raven took Charles' hand and gave it a squeeze. "And I'm afraid you won't be able to receive that from me. Hell, I don't think I'm remotely able to give all of me to anyone just yet and certainly I would not want all of you, and please do not take this as not wanting you, yes I do want you but I cannot have you in the way you want me to have you, and you will grow to hate me and everything that I am."

"Do you love him, Henry, Hank?"

Raven paused for a moment, her smile easing into something fond. "We grew up together and we understand one another. He and I are alike."

"What, you mean, blue?"

Raven frowned at that and Charles cringed. He hadn't meant for it to come out with such little tact, but it was already too late.

"No, Charles," she let out a breath. "I knew you wouldn't understand if I tried explaining it. I should never have- I am going to marry Hank, but that does not mean I do not care for you."

"How dare you!  Why don't you just say you are afraid to marry me? Are you so afraid that, that your family will not sanction our marriage?" Once Charles had started his rant, it was impossible to stop him. "You spoke of happiness, but who are you to judge what will or will not make me happy?"

"Charles, please..."

"You made me believe that you wished to marry me one day. And here I was waiting for the past two years--"

Raven shook her head. "I never-" Charles knew that what Raven said was true, for she had never crossed that line from friendly to friendlier. He flushed with indignant anger, nursing his bruised pride and vanity both as a desirable omega and a beautiful one at that. For he had stupidly gone after her when Raven had never desired him. And there he had gone and confessed in such a manner, his entire body flushes with shame.

"We will never speak of this aberration again. Go marry that shy, furry thing, and leave me alone. I will hate you for the rest of my life!" Each word drains Charles of the rage, as anguish takes its place inside his heart.

Raven looked about ready to say something else, probably another of her platitudes to soothe over his ruffled feathers. But it was already far too late for that. Instead she gave a soft tired sigh, reached out to bring the back of Charles' hand to her lips and then left the library.

Raven's footsteps disappeared down the hallway and suddenly Charles felt sick, his knees weak and hands clammy. He ghosted towards the nearest chair and sat down in its cold embrace, uncaring if he looked like a small child as he brought his feet up to wrap his arms around his knees. Oh what a fool he was! For believing that the world would finally be in alignment when Raven married him and to have the confidence to act upon his vanity and misguided belief in her affections. Oh, how humiliated he was! And now, Raven was lost to him forever.

He turned to the table beside the chair and looked at the bowl that sat upon its surface, twin lions swirling upon the inside with great mighty smirks upon their faces. Their eyes looking up mockingly. He picked it up and threw it across the room where it shattered upon the mantelpiece. The little pieces the bowl was undoubtedly in doesn't make him feel any better.

"You know," a voice drawled from behind the sofa, "aim better next time, if I have to listen to such drivel next time you ruin my afternoon nap. Put me out of my misery."

Charles stared as Erik Lehnsherr sat up and stood from where he must have been laid out, the dimness of the library and the length of the sofa easily hiding the man's presence. His telepathy must have missed him earlier when he had been far too distracted with his speech and thoughts of Raven to have picked up the third mind in the room. Lehnsherr bowed, although Charles knew it was done to mock him.

"You should have made yourself known, sir!"

"Perhaps," Lehnsherr said thoughtfully. His teeth gleamed despite the low light and his pale eyes seemed to be laughing at him. "But you see, I had thought I would be undisturbed here in the quiet of the library after my speech, hmm. How thoughtful I was to realise where I am unwanted and to remove myself before situations can arise."

"You-" Charles began furiously as he watched Lehnsherr shrug, uncaring. "Eavesdropping upon a private conversation-"

"Ahh, my dear. Eavesdroppers often hear the most entertaining and instructive of matters," Lehnsherr grinned. "And this is speaking from personal experience."

"You, sir," he said, "are certainly not a gentleman!"

"I never claimed to be as such," Lehnsherr replied loftily. "And it takes one to know one, young Master Xavier. Hardly an appropriate display for an omega don't you think? Omegas tend to be so pedestrian and predictable that they infrequently pique my interest. I always know what they are thinking and I haven't any powers to read minds unlike your fine self."

"How did you-"

Lehnsherr easily bats away his protests. "Eavesdropping, remember? You are the, shall we say, apple of your parents' eyes." Charles' eyebrow twitched for the irony is not lost on him. "Oh come now, dear Mr. Xavier, not even a smile at that?  Very well. You possess many admirable traits and you don't lack the courage to speak your mind. I can appreciate that and I would doff my hat at you if I were wearing it. What I do not understand is how someone like Miss Darkholme could possible charm the likes of an omega like you with such a wild, untameable nature. I imagine if you were to be wed, she would have a most difficult time controlling you. Alas the Darkholmes have such a history..."

"How dare you say such things about Raven!"

"Then I must have heard wrong when you mentioned hating her for the rest of your life. My mistake!" He disappeared behind the back of the sofa, laughing merrily to himself.

Charles fumed and walked towards the library door with his head held high, slamming the door shut with as much strength as he could muster on his way out.

Charles felt as if he'd run a marathon by the time he escaped back up to the stair landing. He now felt so foolish for asking Moira to lace him up so tightly as he struggled for deep breaths. He sat upon the step and ran his hands over his face. Oh what must they think of him? Taking in another shuddering breath, Charles swallowed and wet his lips. It wouldn't do to lose composure out here where everyone can see. There would be time later, much later, in the privacy of his own room to contemplate the loss of Raven and the words of that vile Lehnsherr. No one must ever know of his indiscretion. Now, he had to put himself together and be ready for the night's activities.

The sound of hooves drew Charles' attention to the window where a lone rider was galloping up the drive. He was too far away to hear what the actual news was, but the idea seemed to excite Ramsay Darkholme when he embraced the stranger.

Charles, however, had more pressing concerns as he snuck into the dressing room from the hallway. There was an assortment of dresses and combs, trinkets that any omega could own.

"You know, Charles acted as any omega in the throes of heat today."

Charles jolted at the sound of his name. Should he stay or should he go? It belonged to one of the omegas that Charles was unfamiliar with - Opal Tanaka.

"Eavesdroppers often hear the most instructive of matters," his memory whispers. He stayed steadfast by the door when Hank began to speak,

"Don't be unkind, Opal. You should never say ill-will to others. I found him admirable and charming, and should like to get to know him."

Opal, however, refused to listen. Charles frowned, wondering what he had done to deserve such ire from an omega he had never formally met. Hank seemed sweet but Charles couldn't help but to scathingly think that it was all a front. Hank had gotten Raven, and now he was lauding his success to everyone present. Why Charles had often used the very same trick himself, seemingly sweet on the outside that alphas were often fooled to believe he was kind and unselfish.

"The way Charles carried on with Bobby Drake!" Opal sounded indignant but broke off into giggles. "Oh, how surprised he shall be when he finds out that, you know, Bobby and I--"

"Truly? You are to be--"

Opal quickly shushed them. "Don't tell anybody yet!"

"Oh, this is simply marvellous news," Hank said, sounding genuinely surprised by the news. "Perhaps we should hold a double wedding? I- I mean Bobby and I were quite close growing up together that I regard him like a sibling."

"Oh! That would be simply marvellous, can you imagine the lace, the brocades and the floral arrangements?" Opal giggled to herself once more. The room was filled with hushed questions and more giddy laughter that was altogether far too annoying.

Charles had had enough and cast his telepathy out like a net, wondering what else this foolish girl could be harbouring inside that silly head of hers. He had no qualms about using his powers on the likes of people that had never earnt his respect and waded through Opal's simple thoughts. Despite what a simpleton she was, Charles had to admire her for having honed her omega instinct that he had underestimated. Somehow, some reason, Opal knew that the only alpha Charles wanted was Raven. It was like a slap in the face when compared to the embarrassment he had gone through earlier in the library with both Raven's refusal and Erik Lehnsherr's gentle ribbing. After all, Charles knew they would keep their mouth's shut; Raven had nothing to gain by outing his affections and Erik Lehnsherr, well, Charles knew not about whether Mr. Lehnsherr had anything to gain for knowing about a silly omega's foolish crush. But omega tongues would wag and Charles wagered Opal Tanaka would be no different. Naturally, Charles would vehemently disagree, now that Raven was going to become an engaged alpha, and he would not be the first Xavier entangled in such a disgrace as being an omega who had had numerous alpha dalliances.

Those thoughts were still barbs against Charles side and wilfully, he thought them gone. And they indeed flew out of Opal's head as if she never knew. He took in a great breath and calmed his nerves. He wouldn't run away from this, he wouldn't give the other omegas the smug satisfaction of knowing that they were right. Charles shot scathing looks at the door before he crept back into the hallway and outside without anyone the wiser. It wouldn't be a difficult job for Charles, in fact he would do it with pleasure to any omega that dared to think poorly of him.

He was turning in to head back inside the house when who else but Bobby Drake were to step out onto the porch. When Bobby spotted him, he quickly hurried towards Charles. There was something about him that thrummed with excitement and energy.

"Have you heard the news?" he asked, coming to a stop in front of Charles and hastily running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. Charles shook his head minutely. "General Farouk has been given the okay to ask for alphas and soldiers to join him on the front line!"

Charles' eyes naturally narrowed at the mention of the war, at the confirmation of the impending tussle.

"I'm sorry, have I upset you in some manner? I always forget that omegas have a more delicate constitution and I probably shouldn't have just blurted it out like that," Bobby fretted, peering with worry into Charles' face.

"No. It's fine," Charles said, smoothing his face into something more placid. He allowed it when Bobby lead him down to sit by one of the benches out on the lawn.

They sat in silence, lost in thought. Charles watched in his mind as Bobby went from thought to thought, following the tenuous threads of logic. He ought to feel affronted that Bobby thought he was fragile like some of the other omegas, as if mentioning blood and battlefields would make him faint. That lead to a tangent of how beautiful Charles' eyes were, a compliment he heard often. Charles remained quiet as Bobby rerouted back to thoughts of joining the Brotherhood and he took the moment to look, really look at Bobby: he wasn't particularly hideous and he had a sizeable fortune. And with both parents long gone and Hank about to move here in Twelve Oaks, the house in New London would be quite empty and it would be his. Bobby couldn't meet Charles eye, flushing in delight for not many omegas would look at him in such a manner. If Charles so wished to read his mind, he would know exactly how much Bobby adored him, how quickly he had fallen for him.

But Charles was not thinking about Bobby's affections or anything at all to do with his feelings. Revenge was on his mind. If indeed today he accepted the proposal, he would have his own house and beautiful clothes with a fine carriage. Perhaps it would put more strain on his relationship with his adoptive sister Anne-Marie, who had developed a crush on Bobby. It would knock Opal Tanaka off her high horse and she would be laughed and jeered at by everyone. But most importantly, no one would laugh at Charles.

Charles still did not say anything and Bobby took that as tacit permission to continue.

"Please don't fret for my safety, Mr. Charles. I have been practising you see," Bobby was eager to impress and made a rose out of ice, only to have it melt away slowly within minutes. He looked embarrassed by the display. "I work better during the cooler climates of the night! But I will be back before you know it and all in one piece!"

Charles hummed, nodding absently at Bobby's words.

"Scott Summers has gone to help spread the word around, but I'm afraid there wouldn't be much of a ball tonight, as the Young Alphas Union will be meeting late tonight. I know how much the omegafolk were looking forward to this event."

And yet Charles could only offer a demure smile.

"Mr. Charles," Bobby took a hold of one of Charles' hands and slipped a gentle cautious finger underneath Charles' chin. "It would mean the world to me if I knew you will wait for me. I'll fight for you just as I will fight for Genosha, Mr. Charles."

And for a long moment neither of them could breathe. With Raven out of the scene, any alpha would do; Charles could not care who. Why shouldn't he marry this oblivious boy who would go to the ends of the earth for him?

Charles bit down on his lower lip and looked to a spot on Bobby's shoulder. "Waiting is for fools, and I am not a fool," he declared, sliding his hands into Bobby's and giving it a squeeze.

"You will marry me then, Mr. Charles?"

"If my mother give you her blessing, yes."

The smile on his face was radiant that Charles almost felt guilty for duping him.

"Why, I will speak to her at once!"  Bobby sprung up off the seat, excitement with each bounce and each step. And Charles watched him go, disappearing down the path towards the the house. He admired the large windows, the alternating twist of the balustrades and the wide porch that he would have loved to spend afternoons reading a book with his legs tucked in underneath him. The Darkholme Estate house had been part of Charles' dreams for the future, all of them shattered now, in the same instant Bobby walked through the door.

 

 

 

 

* * *

  
_Charles darted glances about the large front hall, with its swirling staircases and found his gaze falling onto a stranger standing off the side by his lonesome, his intense grey eyes quite transfixed upon Charles that it made him squirm on the inside, flushing with pleasure for having attracted such a gentleman and quite obviously an alpha from the way he was dressed._


	2. Chapter 2

It was perhaps the marriage with the shortest engagement time in New London as Charles and Bobby were married within the fortnight. But it wasn't the only marriage to end in tragedy, for two months later, Charles found himself a widower. The mourning period carried over well into the next half of the year, but frankly Charles got sick of being one as soon as the pity parties were thrown in his honour. Unfortunately, a widower never got to have any fun, although that too was now scarce in and of itself with the constant state of war. No, all an omega widower got to wear was black upon black upon black. Not a hint of blue anywhere. And the proper length of mourning was three years - Three Years! - why Charles would possibly die of boredom before then.

There were far too many rules when it came the proper etiquette in widowerhood. One, he must never smile or laugh or be do anything animated. Two, he must wear black gloves at all times. And most frustratingly of all, he was never to entertain any alpha guests. It was a stupid rule, Charles thought grumpily, as he flicked the lint off the black vest he wore over a black shirt. No longer could he cinch it back into enviable measurements lest it attracted attention from alphas. Of course, the option to remarry was on the table, and as Charles marriage to Bobby Drake had not resulted in a child within his belly, he could still be desirable to many alphas.

But how frustrating it was to spend day after day staring at four walls! Sometimes in the blissful moments between wakefulness, Charles dreamt that he was still unmarried and that there would come a day when Raven would smile at him fondly from underneath the branches of an apple tree. Of days gone by when Raven didn't belong to another omega or wasn't currently in the middle of fighting a war.

He was often invited up to the Darkholme Estate for dinner, where news from the battle front would be brought forth from letters sent by Raven home. And every time Charles returned home, whether it be to his room in Westchester or the empty house in New London, he would collapse on his bed and sleep, not moving when Moira or Brian came up with tempting treats and trays of food that would always go untouched.

Sharon had taken one look at her son and packed him off with his dog, Professor, to visit relatives as far as the flat plains of Redpool and Brian's extended family down by the rivers of Chatswood. It had all been terribly mundane and Charles had spent the time experimenting with his telepathy on relatives he cared not a whit for. Once upon a time he had flourished with the attentions of everyone, and now he stagnated as people looked upon him with pity. Of course an omega without an alpha would lose direction, they sympathized in their minds when they saw him walk about town without an alpha escort by his side. A classic case of broken-heartedness, others said when Charles left Chatswood upon horseback a week earlier than he had been expected to leave.

Brian worried about his son. He had dropped he was doing as soon as Moira rushed to find him to inform him about Charles appearing at the front door. Although he had been lucky to never know first-hand how heart-brokenness could affect a person, he worried for Charles and prayed that Charles would one day recover, to find an alpha that would love him deeply and truly. He spoke with Sharon often about Charles and what they could do for him when they were both getting ready for bed.

It had been a week already since Charles returned and he had barely said a word to anyone, instead spending his days either out riding or laying about in bed. Charles couldn't continue on like this.

"Perhaps he could go and stay with Henry McCoy and his Aunt Letty?" Brian murmured as he settled into the pillows and Sharon's arms came to hold him around the waist. "They are only just two omegas in such a very large house. It would perhaps be easier for Charles to recover somewhere new and quiet. Henry McCoy will be a good influence, I believe."

"That sounds like an idea, love," Sharon replied, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, and just like that Charles was sent along his way back to New London in the afternoon of the next day, still clad in his mourning clothes with his dog and Sean, Charles' new valet that Sharon had gifted to him, in tow.

 

New London was a place that was bursting with life, a mixture of the London it was named after. It was something inherently new and Genoshan, more young and vibrant when compared to London, all old and austere. New London was the heart, the pulse of the Brotherhood, for it was a major station on the great railway. It linked the major ports by Hammer Bay to the inland cities of Chatswood, Marsfield and further on.

Brian used to reminisce about how New London used to be a tiny little town with a population of around two hundred. When demand for imported goods increased, so too did New London. Naturally, it had bloomed and now there were well over several thousands living in and around New London. There was an assortment of alphas and omegas with their servingfolk, some were old relatives of residents and others new couples looking for a place to start a new life together; they were all drawn to what New London had to offer. No matter who it was, those that had come to build their homes here were proud of the houses that stood tall in the neighbourhood, and proud of their efforts and contributions to their community.

Charles stepped off the train and let out a sigh, glad to be able to stretch his legs after several hours of travel. Sean stood behind him, clutching Charles' suitcase in his hands, looking almost frightfully around. According to Brian, Miss Letty had arranged for a carriage to be there to pick him up as soon as the train arrived. He looked about him with a dampened sense of wonder at all the people that strode with importance in their steps headed towards destinations unknown. Well. Not completely unknown. There were others too, soldiers and patients returning from the war front and workers packing crates into storage carriages destined to travel to the front.

Charles rearranged his overcoat and idly dipped his fingers into the thoughts of those around him, intent on finding which one was responsible for escorting them to the carriage. It was like trailing one's hand through the cool water when on a rowing boat. He turned away from any mind that was sickly or thought about the brutality from the war efforts, concentrating his powers on the brighter minds of the well rested. Charles instantly recognized his own face in the mind of an elderly male human that was quickly approaching with hastened steps.

The human pulled to a stop and bowed low. "Master Charles? My name is Lucas, and I am Miss Letty's coachman and butler. Please follow me." They stalked quickly in the direction of the carriages, wading through the throngs of people gathered there at the station.

Charles examined the way Lucas carried himself as he followed after the man's long strides. There was a purpose that must keep his spine straight, with an air of courtesy that the older servingfolk tended to cultivate after many years in service. He knew almost nothing about this man and Charles was quick to rectify that as soon as he and Sean were settled within the carriage and Lucas had taken up the reins and whip. Charles idly leafed through memories like pages of a book.

The journey to the McCoy's house was long but it had been some time since the last Charles had taken such a route through New London. The town had changed. Whole neighbourhoods had been built in the year that Charles hadn't stayed ever since Bobby had died, and there was an assortment of people loitering about that he had never seen before. And for the first time in so many months, Charles finally mustered enough interest and enthusiasm to look at a town that was busy with its own existence, emboldened by its resolve to aid the ongoing war effort.

Although his life had very much stagnated in the past year, New London had moved on. New London had once been an important town for commerce, it had evolved to become a place of strategic importance, a hub with its supply lines that helped the Brotherhood in the north and the west where the battles were concentrated. An entire industrial section had been created, dedicated to the cotton factories, lumber and steel mills. There were no longer any vacant land in New London, for it was now forever expanding outwards.

The MRA had long since learnt to take advantage of its navy and had set up a barricade to stop anything from reaching the shores of Hammer Bay. Although the Brotherhood had teleporters, they were better spent elsewhere and could only do so much. The MRA had enticed many humans into their ranks, lured by the bounty and the call of glory offered with the opportunity to defeat the 'mutant threat'.

The Brotherhood was made up with an assortment of talents and genetic mutations, but there were still other war materials like armour, uniforms, saddles, harnesses, weapons that required mass production and raw materials required processing. Engineering had been taken to new heights to counter the weaponry created by the MRA and any person skilled were immediately put to work in their chosen field. Where once the houses were painted white, were all now grimy and covered in the soot that plumed up from the great chimney stacks and the trains that passed through and stopped the station around the clock. No longer did the houses have any decorative ornaments; any available raw material had long since found their way into various melting pots where it would be transformed into a more usable state.

The carriage took a turn and rolled down Piccadilly Street where the headquarters of the various Brotherhood departments came to be. The offices swarmed with alphas - sometimes even mutant betas - most clad in Brotherhood blue uniforms. Lucas went on to inform Charles of the number of hospitals in the district, some for general wounds, some for contagious diseases, others for more serious of injuries and the large block of convalescent hospitals. After all, the stream of wounded alphas were never ending as they returned by train day by day to fill up hospital beds.

Charles leaned forward in his seat to stare out the window, taking in the new places and new faces with interest. There were carriages and buggies clogging the side walks, adding to the clutter of pedestrians walking past. What used to be a little sleepy town had quickly grown into something almost unrecognisable to Charles, and he could not help but think that this was what it was like to be alive and amongst the exciting thrum of voices for New London was abuzz with life.

Of course, where there were large congregations of alphas, there would of course be prostitutes, much to the consternation of several matronly omegas. Hotels and boarding houses were built as people swarmed into the town to visit wounded relatives in the New London hospitals. It wasn't unusual for loud parties and balls to be held every week and there numerous weddings held as young couples made vows before becoming tearfully torn apart by war.

Charles kept asking Lucas about New London, about the new establishments that had opened up and any buildings that they drove past. Lucas was happy to oblige answering them, pointing out the places of interest. The quarries and mines towards the far west were bustling with new work, but the year long war was starting to place a toll on Genosha's resources.

"Mr. Charles, we can't stop at the moment for you to explore but, oh, there's Mrs. Braddock and Mrs. Worthington are waving at you from the general’s store."

He had a vague recollection as to who these women were, Miss Letty's friends. They had attended his wedding to Bobby and craned to locate the store front and bowed his head politely once he saw they were curtsying at him. These two women, along with Mrs. Pryde, were the three women to go to if anyone were interested in holding anything and getting it organised quickly. Each were married and had borne their alphas broods of children. If Katherine Summers knew the bloodlines of her horses like the back of her hand, then these women knew the genealogy of everybody that resided in New London, and perhaps even Chatswood and Marsfield. No one dared to go against these three women for they wielded their authority like a weapon. If anything was not to their liking, they would make themselves known until everyone knew.

"I have already told Letty and the girls here that you will be coming to one of my hospitals," Mrs. Braddock called out. "No one else can have you, so don't go promising to work for anyone else, you hear?"

"Certainly won't," Charles replied, a little confused as to how he had suddenly gained employment but never the less glowing a little as they made him feel welcome.

"Good lad. Now we'll see you soon enough, Mr. Charles!" They waved goodbye to him as the carriage trundled along until it arrived at an intersection where people were scurrying past. It was at that moment that Charles was looking about the buildings and the people there that he saw a figure standing upon the corner wearing a pure white dress that showed off her ample bosom. When she turned, Charles saw a woman with a beautiful bold face with her blonde hair curled to frame her face. There was no question asked as to what her particular profession was, but it fascinated Charles immensely for he had never seen an omega prostitute before.

"Lucas, who is that?" Charles asked.

Lucas shrugged, refusing to answer but Charles could easily pluck the name 'Emma Frost' from his mind. There were no titles attached to her name.

Along the way, the omegas that were out and about were calling to him. Some of them Charles had seen from somewhere or another, others he had a vague recollection, however there was a large proportion that he had never known in his life. How they all seemed to know him was strange. Perhaps all of this, the warm welcome that New London was giving him, was Letty's doing. Although Charles adored Westchester, there was something about New London's bustling life that contrasted to the more idyllic lifestyle, and Charles was sure to adore his temporary stay back in the town.

And then finally, as if everything had been working up to this point, Charles finally saw the red roof of Miss Letty's house, with its neat picket fence and blossoming gardenias in the front yard. And standing upon the porch stood Miss Letty and Hank, both wearing black to honour Bobby's memory.

Charles wasn't sure how long he would be welcome to stay in New London, for his previous visitations had ended prematurely. If Charles found his stay enjoyable, then he would stay indefinitely. Miss Letty and Hank campaigned for Charles' permanent residence with them from the first moment he stepped onto the first step. Anything that could have been used as an excuse, a reason, was used. The house was far too big for two omegas, and they dearly loved and wished for him to stay. New London was filled with so many interesting people and surely Charles could practise using his gift, and what was more Charles brought with him a fire that brightened the house and gave them courage to face the next day. And then there was the fact that the Brotherhood needed as many hands to help the wounded, whether it be knitting or rolling up bandages or sewing up wounds.

He came to enjoy his stay with both Miss Letty and Hank, recovering his spirits till he once again felt nineteen again. Hank was similar to his aunt as he was shy and frequently speechless, blushing when compliments came in his direction. He was modest and enjoyed learning about the sciences, a passion that rivalled Charles' own interests and, begrudgingly, Charles started to harbour respect for Hank, who could see no wrong in others and was perpetually sincere and happy with his lot in life.

Charles was still young and the people of New London did their utmost to make him feel welcome and happy there. And it worked, to a certain extent. Often, Charles' heart would seize at any mention of Raven's name, aching from the forbidden relationship that he could not have. And how often Hank mentioned her.

The days flew past as Miss Letty and Hank continued to do their utmost to make sure Charles had not want for anything, ensuring that Charles had constant companionship. They fussed ceaselessly over him and trips were taken in the carriage often whenever Charles hinted so much as to being bored or wanting to visit someone or another. They comforted him with hugs, words of encouragement and admiration, and fond kisses to his cheek. To them, Charles's gift and his features deserved the compliments they laid upon him, and Charles, vain creature that he was, basked in their good will.

He worked ceaselessly under the tutelage of Dr. Armando Munoz - or Darwin to those that worked close to him - to become a doctor at the hospital that Hank nursed at. Darwin was an alpha with an extraordinary mutation that allowed him to resist any sort of infectious disease that the alphas brought back from the front.

All the omegafolk and some of the servingfolk spent as much time nursing as they could. Hank admired his intelligence and soon joined him when it became apparent he had a certain skill and possessed a pair of steady hands. Charles soothed the minds of those that he could, put those to sleep that required it and ploughed through with a determination that stemmed from the fact that any of the alpha mutants he was treating could one day be Raven.

Charles and Hank often returned home tired and aching from hours of standing and assisting in surgeries, whether it be from removing limbs or delicate surgeries to remove shrapnel. The hospitals were a constant of death, delirium and odours as alphas of an assortment of mutations returned. All of them battered and scarred and changed.

Perhaps it would have been bearable had he been allowed to work with the convalescent alphas, some of which were certainly easy on the eyes and rich. Just to talk to them and charm them a little were behaviours most unbefitting of a widower. But that job was left in the capable hands of the younger omegas who were unwed as they nursed them back to full health, contributing to the number of war weddings.

Alex and Gabe Summers came to stay with them for a little while, filling the house further with life. The dogs mingled about, happy to have new playmates as the weeks bled by. Charles for one was glad to see familiar faces.  

There had been a bazaar planned for tomorrow evening and all throughout the week, when Charles and Hank were free from their doctorly duties, they had been busy knitting, sewing and baking. Miss Letty's house was filled with the smell of baking where cakes were being made and decorated to be raffled off in order to raise some money for better equipment for the hospitals, only stopping to recuperate with their well deserved afternoon naps.

The next day, they received surprise visitors when Mrs. Braddock and Mrs. Worthington appeared on at the front door mid-afternoon. The hour was getting later, they quickly hastened to readjust their vests and dresses, each vying for a quick look in the mirror to ensure their hair was acceptable for company before stepping into the parlour.

"I'm just going to come out and say it," Mrs. Braddock said abruptly as soon as they were settled amongst the room on the spacious couches. "We have far too much to do back at the Armoury and the decorations are no where near finished - unfortunately the Creed girls have been called away to collect their wounded father, Victor, and Mrs. Cassidy is at home looking after her youngest." Charles had known about that and had given Sean the day off to spend some time with his family.

"That's dreadful," the McCoys said in unison, "Is poor Victor-?"

"Oh no, just several lacerations and through the sides. He'll live," Mrs. Worthington said, almost entirely too cheerfully. "Unfortunately that means we're several hands short. Letty, we insist that you and Hank come along tonight to replace the girls at their booth."

"But we can't, Kathryn-"

Mrs. Worthington refused to listen, tutting and shaking her head. "This is for the Cause, Letty. And there is no one that are willing to take their place. Young people these days, all dreams and no sense. They don't fool me one jot, I know precisely what they are thinking. Too busy wondering if their new clothes can be seen behind a booth. Spoilt rotten that lot are. Hah! I wish that blockade runner- What was his name?"

"Captain Lehnsherr," Mrs. Braddock supplied.

"Yes, him. I wish he would bring in something useful for once and not the copious amounts of frilled monstrosities. Time is of the essence. I know you feel for young Bobby Drake, but you weren't blood related, and you simply must help. You'll be taking over Mrs. Cassidy's job of keeping the servingfolk in line and why Hank here will look after the poor Creed girls' booth. Everyone will understand."

Charles gave both the McCoys a gentle mental nudge. "I think we ought to go. After all, the hospital truly does need new equipment." He couldn't help but feel his heart rate increase, and tried to keep his face from betraying the amount of excitement he felt inside.

Mrs. Worthington and Mrs. Braddock turned to him in unison, giving him a sharp once over. They would never ask a widowed omega to appear at any sort of social function. Although they were in desperate need for people, it still wouldn't be proper.

"I know the importance of getting the proper materials and care for our soldiers, I've been a doctor in training for the past few months. I can help Hank at the booth because two heads are better than one. What do you think, Hank?"

Hank blinked, a little taken aback at Charles' question. "Well, I... I suppose?"

Sensing the acquiescence as a sign of weakness, Mrs. Worthington pounced on the opportunity. "Charles is right. Letty, do not argue with me. All of you come with me."

Letty hesitated but was ultimately swayed.

Charles could not believe it as he walked into the Armoury and slinked behind the booth that the Creed girls would have been looking after. His dog sat attentively by his side. The booth itself was a monstrosity, decorated in pale yellows and greens ribbons, but Charles couldn't pay any sort of attention to how offensive it was to his eyes when he was actually at a social gathering that wasn't intent on reminding him time and time again of Bobby's sacrifice and loss. He had been positively bored by it all in the past year, but now, now he was at something that was fun. There were people and music and lights and the different styles of dresses and fabrics that Captain Lehnsherr had slipped past the blockade with. All the colours and different styles made Charles ache and yearn for the tight feel of his corset vests.

But instead, he wore the shapeless mourning outfit with grace and admired the change in what had once been a room dedicated to running drills. It looked lovely with candles twinkling in every corner and upon the gun racks, now thankfully devoid of any weapon. The smell of metal had been traded for the sweet scents of blueberries and scrumptious baked goods.

There were comfortable benches arranged along the side, ready to be filled by older omegafolks and their conversations. Potted plants filled the rest of the space in a sea of greenery and small bursts of colour.

There was a raised platform reserved for the musicians and behind it was a large picture of the four Generals' faces. Underneath their portraits hung the Brotherhood's flag proudly, a solid dark blue background with a large red X lined in white.

Charles watched as Aunt Letty ran about after servingfolk, making last minute arrangements, shepherding those that had been put on the roster for looking after booths to their stations like a herding dog.

The musicians began tuning their instruments, a cacophony of twanging and whining notes filling the air. Charles watched in rapt attention as the conductor tapped on his sheet music stand, the musicians brought their instruments to the ready and the first bars of a waltz began to play. There was dancing to happen later when more people arrived, but Charles could not help but count the beats by tapping his boots against the leg of his stool.

Then, as if summoned by the sound of music, people started arriving. Horses pulled up out front accompanying the creak of carriage wheels rolling to a stop. Omegas dressed in bright coloured ribbons, ruffles and silks, and alphas in their uniform grays with brass buttons gleaming. Everyone looked handsome and Charles enjoyed the display of New London's best and finest with the sound of laughter filling the room despite the bleak time.

He watched underneath his hooded eyes at the handsome alphas parading around the room, various coloured stripes on their trousers that told him of which army division they belonged to. Some of them were ex-patients of his and he was glad to see how far some of them had recovered. There were stripes in gold and silver along their cuffs and shoulders to show off their rank, and sabers swung from their sides tapping against the side of their gleaming boots.

Others were still recovering, gleaming white bandages dressing wounds, arms in slings and then some in crutches. But how their escorts graciously slowed down their paces to accompany the awkward fumbling steps. Charles felt a small spark of pride light up inside of him. There were those that were available to make the journey to the Armoury from the hospitals. It seemed everyone was here, all the alphas on furlough and sick leave, the workers from the railroad and the mail service, there were the doctors that Charles worked alongside and most of the convalescents that were still able to walk. There were plenty of alphas still in New London for all the unclaimed omegas in town, and how very pleased they would be. They turnout was incredible and Charles wondered for a moment if everyone would be able to fit inside the hall.

The musicians finished up the waltz and began the first chorus of the Brotherhood's Anthem. Everyone in the room began to sing, the deep baritones entwining with the tenors and the sopranos to create a chorus that lifted the spirits of everyone there, emotions running deep in the charged air.

Hank joined in, singing from somewhere behind him in his baritone, the notes reverberating throughout his entire body. His leonine face was shined with pride, his yellow eyes glassy with emotion.  The song ended and Hank pulled out a handkerchief to dab the corners of his eyes with before folding it and putting it away again. There was pride that made Hank positively glow. It was the same look on each and every face of the omegafolk in attendance, for they believed and trusted their alphas to do what they must for the Cause. A Cause that they loved and protected with every fiber of their body, that they talked and dreamt and shared with so many other omegas.

The war was nearly at hand. The Battle of Two Rivers had been painstakingly defended and won a few weeks ago. But the MRA was losing soldiers faster than the Brotherhood was and Charles was convinced that the war would not last another month.

Every young omega had their pick of the alphas still in New London and Charles was a little jealous at how beautiful they looked in their dresses and corset vests, when he looked a like shapeless mass of black, covered in head to toe with nothing decorative but an onyx pin that Brian had given to him.

He tried hard not to imagine himself in the place of many, an alpha on each arm. Had he been too naive yet in marrying Bobby a year ago?  Why had he done that?

Out on the main floor, the alphas were now falling into a line formation. A man of some rank, captain maybe, stood upon the platform shouting orders in a drill. The sound of many hands coming together, prompts Charles to clap dutifully. The soldiers, now dismissed, head towards the beverage booths all seeking some refreshing lemonade or punch.

The conductor tapped the music stand again and started with another waltz. The notes wavered in the air, enticing Charles to move. He wanted to dance. He wanted to dance with a passion that blazed behind blue eyes. But there would be no one here that would dance with a widower like him, it would not be socially acceptable. Except for an alpha who stood on the opposite side of the room, having just arrived to the Armoury himself, and he paused for a moment in recognition to soak in every nuance and detail in that sulky countenance. He smiled to himself, for he recognized the invitation for what it was.

He was dressed in black, the cloth of his suit showing off his broad set of shoulders that tapered down into a narrow waist, towering over the officers who stood close to him. Underneath the overcoat was a simple white cotton shirt and trousers that were tailored to fit and show off the long miles of his legs. Despite how well groomed he looked, there was something about his lazy grace that gave off an aura of danger. His hair was auburn with hints of ginger that stood out despite all the different genetic mutations around him. This was an alpha that was confident and filled with unashamed hunger as he stared at Charles, a predatory smile on his face. And as if sensing this man, Charles finally looked up at him from across the room.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Charles could vaguely recall the wisp of a memory, but for now it eluded him. Elation filled his stomach for it was the first time that an alpha had shown anything resembling interest at him in forever that Charles could not help but to smile back. He bowed in return, prompting Charles to do the same, and then strode towards him whilst Charles was suddenly assuaged by memories, and a quick mental probe confirmed it for Charles.

Charles quickly turned upon his heel, in hopes of escaping somewhere, anywhere, but his darn coat got caught upon the nailhead of one of the booths. And in an instant, the alpha was beside him, helping to tease the fabric free with a low murmur of 'allow me'.

"I dare not hope that you remember my face, Mr. Xavier." His voice was low and rumbled, like a caress with a mix of accents that was difficult to place, but most certainly not originated in Genosha despite the misleading drawl from Marsfield.

Their last meeting had been one that Charles had hoped to wipe away from his memory, and he gazed beseechingly up into pale blue eyes that danced with unbridled glee.

"What are you doing here?" Charles asked rudely, looking about frantically for Hank, just in case he overheard something unsavoury about that afternoon of his betrothal.

"I am here on matters of business, Mr. Xavier. For I must see to that the goods I slip past the blockade will find new owners and their money lining my pockets."

"You- You're the Captain Lehnsherr that everyone has been speaking of!"

"The one and the same. Why, I believe, every dress you see here had been brought in by myself.  Don't they simply look marvellous- Oh! Mr. Xavier, are you quite alright? You look a bit flush. I suppose it is very warm inside this stuffy hall. Can I accompany you outside for some fresh air?"

"No, no," Charles hastened to repeat himself, the levels of panic swirling in the pits of his belly. He had never assumed that they would meet again so soon. "I am quite alright here, thank you very much, Mr- Captain Lehnsherr. You must also address me as Mr. Drake." Charles Xavier Drake, oh he had been but a stupid little fool to have married so young!

"Ah. I trust that your marriage is a happy one," he said, although the words that come out from his mouth seemed to imply the opposite. "Is your alpha here? I should like to renew my acquaintances."

"He died in the war," Charles replied flatly, almost snappishly and on the verge of making this alpha turnabout heel to be on his merry way. And yet-

"You must forgive me. I meant no disrespect. But please allow me to say that to die for the Cause, for one's country is but the highest honour." Charles could only stare at him for making such a graceful remark that any gentlealpha would have made in his place, yet Captain Lehnsherr meant no word of it. Oh, he was being taunted and Captain Lehnsherr was no gentlealpha for he knew precisely of his affections not for his late husband, but for another, for Raven.

Hank chose that moment to reappear, bless his good timing, and was taken aback to see their little booth with business. "Dear me, can it be the famous and brave Captain Erik Lehnsherr? Do you remember we met-" He extended one of his hands.

Captain Lehnsherr flicked his gaze away, a smile on his face as he took Hank's hand in his own and kissed the back of it. "Why, it was on the happy occasion of your engagement. It is very kind of you to remember me.

"You are hard to forget, Mr. Darkholme. Is your alpha amongst us today?"

Hank turned to place an arm around Charles' shoulder momentarily and offered a small smile, proud as it were. "No. She is fighting further out by Waterfall, and I dearly miss her every day. But please do forgive Charles for being- well. He hasn't been himself ever since Bobby's death. We are still in mourning over his loss. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here tonight after all, with all the cheer and music."

Captain Lehnsherr nodded, and with exaggerated gravity said, "I understand." He searched Hank's face for something, and having found it, his face immediately transformed to something more gentle as if reluctantly respectful. "You are something else, Mr. Darkholme."

Hank blinked in confusion, but smiled and answered all the same. "I. Oh, no Captain Lehnsherr! The hospital committee needed last minute help and- Oh, quilt covers? Why certainly. Was there a specific design?" Hank was suddenly swarmed by potential customers, and quite forgot the rest of the conversation.

"Has your alpha been dead long?"

"Almost a year now."

"That must feel like the longest time. Had you been married to him long? It is a him, correct? You must forgive me for all these questions. I do not mean to be rude. It is just that I have not been in these parts."

"Yes. Bobby is- We were married for two months."

Captain Lehnsherr nodded solemnly, as though it was nothing short of a tragedy. "And is this the first time you have appeared at a social gathering?"

"Yes. I know how it must seem very odd but there had been no time with the Creed girls being indisposed and there frankly was no one one else-"

"Nothing is too great for the Cause."

Charles closed his mouth with a click before he fired off a retort he was likely to regret. Sod the Cause, Charles thought bitterly. He was not here because of something like supporting the war. Did he not already do enough with doctoring the wounded that came in on the trains everyday? He was just tired of staring at four walls all day with just his dog and medical journals for company.

"You know," Captain Lehnsherr said, thoughtfully. "I had always thought that this entire system of omegas mourning for one's lost alpha, being forced to wear a strict uniform and being forbidden to do anything is about as barbarous as the Hindu suttee."

"I beg your pardon? Did you say settee?"

Captain Lehnsherr laughed, an attractive sound that caused Charles's cheeks to flush from his ignorance. He was awful when it came to religion.

"There is a country outside of Genosha where, when the alpha dies, their body is burned upon a funeral pyre instead of buried in the ground. And their omega, if they survive the alpha, is burned along with them."

Charles gasped. "That is horrific. Why would they do that?" He would have chosen carefully, or not at all, had that been the consequences of what happens to the omegas.

"An omega that does not do that would become a social outcast, you see. All those older and married omegas would speak ill will of her for not acting as a proper well-bred omega ought to. Now, I imagine the same would happen if you were to wear something with more colour, perhaps in red or a darker blue to bring out the colour of your eyes.  If you ask me though, suttee would be more merciful than the customs here of smothering the widows and windowers of Genosha."

Charles was affronted by the very idea and could only muster a squawk of outrage. "How dare you!"

"Now, now," Captain Lehnsherr continued, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "You may think their customs are horrific, but were it not for the Cause, would you have appeared here tonight when Genosha needed you?"

"Well, no. It would have been disrespectful to and appeared as if I have never lov-"

Captain Lehnsherr's pale eyes twinkled, waiting for the rest of his sentence with cynicism. Charles quickly stopped before he could put the rest of his foot in his mouth. Captain Lehnsherr was not a gentlealpha at all! He did not care for any of the rules and was a most curious creature who enjoyed talking about things that no one ever seemed to have heard of.

"Yes? You were saying, Mr. Drake."

"You, sir, are a rogue," Charles declared as he quickly averted his gaze back to where Hank was easily charming and selling their wares.

Captain Lehnsherr breathed out a small huff of amusement, and did not contest the title. He leaned over the counter until his mouth hovered near his ear and whispered in a low murmur: "Fear not, Mr. Xavier. Your guilty little secret is safe with me."

Charles tried and nearly failed to keep the hot blush from creeping underneath his collar. Thank goodness for high collars! "How could you even say such a thing!"

"Well, had I thought that 'Be mine, the most beautiful omega I have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, or prepare for my grand revealment' would have the same effect, I wouldn't hesitate to say that in a heartbeat."  Captain Lehnsherr leaned back, a fond sort of smile on his face.

Charles found his gaze gravitating back up to his and saw the mirth hiding there as if he were but a small boy teasing his first omega crush. This was all he had ever wanted, and Charles couldn't help but laugh. The grin on Captain Lehnsherr's face grew and joined in, the sound of their combined gaiety attracting gazes from the nearest group of chaperones. They observed the carefree way Bobby Drake's widower was laughing and having a good time with a perfect stranger and turned around to whisper darkly and disapprovingly at the display.

The sound of drum rolls quickly quieted any conversation as the crowd looked towards the platform curiously. One of the other doctors that Charles didn't work with took the stage. He waited until he had the undivided attention of the entire hall and introduced him as old Dr. Namor.

"First and foremost, good evening and thank you for attending! To the various committees run by our very own Mrs. Worthington, Mrs. Pryde and Mrs. Braddock, whose hardworking members have expended every efforts possible to decorate this Armoury into a charming garden and make this bazaar the very success it is."

Everybody clapped in approval.

"But not only have the omegafolk dedicated just their time, but also laboured over the various articles you will find in the booths up for purchase, which include knitting, sewing, crocheting and of course, delicious baked goods!"

There were more shouts from the audience and the sound of polite clapping. Captain Lehnsherr, who had been leaning against the counter by Charles' side like a lazy predator whispered: "Full of hot air, isn't that old horse?"

Charles was startled at first by the comment that was directed at one of the most respected members of the community and then gave him an admonishing look. Captain Lehnsherr, unfazed, flicked his eyes towards the stage and whispered for Charles to look harder. And so Charles did, craning his neck to scrutinize old Dr. Namor. The semblance was oddly uncanny as he had never before seen Dr. Namor's face so long and certainly his yellow teeth did not help matters as Charles bit down on his lower lip in order to quash the rising bubble of laughter from inside.

"Of course, it is not just the omegafolk that we must thank, although their deeds must be recognized. There is one other!  As I am sure many of you are well aware, medical supplies do not come cheap. Tonight, we have with us the very alpha who risks life and limb to deliver the supplies that we need from outside of Genosha, and who will continue to run it in our time of need. Captain Erik Lehnsherr!"

The spotlight now turned to him, Captain Lehnsherr took an exaggerated but graceful bow to the enthusiastic applause of many. Many omegas, sporting their new outfits, craned their necks over the crowd in order to see. There was a lot of whispering and speculation in dark corners about the exact type of relationship he and poor Bobby Drake's widower had.

"For the Cause, we cannot continue to purchase the supplies that we require. So I must ask once more of each and every one of you to make one more sacrifice. Of the omegafolk, I ask for your lovely gems, your brooches and your jewelry. The metal will be melted down and all the gemstones shall be sold to raise more money in order to purchase drugs and medical equipment.  Of the alphafolk-" The rest of his speech was consumed by the loud sounds of omegafolk unclasping things that required it, as earrings were unhooked from pierced earlobes. The furor of excited laughter came from young eager flushed faces and from the older omegafolk, bracelets were being reluctantly pulled from where they must have resided long enough to leave light imprints in tans behind. Pieces that must have been passed down from generation to generation were added to the collecting baskets that were being sent around.

By the time the man carrying the basket came to pause by theirs, Charles gave him a blank look. Captain Lehnsherr threw in a handsome cigar case made of gold . The only thing he had left was the gold wedding band that still adorned his finger underneath the black leather gloves. The collector continued to look expectent and Charles, making up his mind about what the gold band around his finger had all but spelt the end of his days of attracting any more alphafolk, took off the glove and tugged the ring off his finger before casting it into the pile.

"Charles! You-" Hank gasped and then he too looked down at his own wedding band. It was a simple thing that had not once left his finger since Raven put it there on him. And to see that Charles had easily given such material things up for the Cause, well, Hank could do the same too. Every little thing counted after all in order to bring Raven home safely.

"Wait! You can... you can have this too!" Hank gently places his ring at the top of the pile and breathes out heavily. Charles turns to give Hank a quizzical look.  "To so selflessly add your wedding ring for the Cause like that, I don't think I have ever met someone quite as brave as you, Charles. You gave me the courage to do the same." He placed an awkward arm around Charles' shoulder and hugged him tight before releasing, which was already seconds too long in his opinion. It irritated Charles that Hank could have left some of his shedding fur behind on his pristine outfit. Charles caught Captain Lehnsherr's eyes again and hastily, Charles managed a smile that felt more like a grimace upon his face.

"Such a gesture will lift the spirits of our alphas in blue once they find out," Captain Lehnsherr commented.

Charles couldn't help but feel like he was being mocked and choked down the hot retort forming upon his lips. With his secret being known by Captain Lehnsherr, he was at a disadvantage, and one that kept being lorded over him at every given turn. He could not help but gravitate towards the alpha, with his pale eyes and cocky grin; Erik Lehnsherr deviated from the normal and fascinating. And the way that he had been continually antagonized by the alpha, it was as if he expected Charles to act a certain way.  Well. He had another think coming.

Charles aimed a disarming smile and replied, "Such a compliment coming from the very courageous blockade runner Captain Lehnsherr?  Why it sends my heart all a flutter."

Captain Lehnsherr looked at him for a long minute and then the widest grin crossed his face as he laughed -- braying like an ass, was what Charles thought as his cheeks became flushed once more.

"Oh, my dear," the Captain said, his voice dropping down to a volume only she could hear, "why don't you just come out and say what is going on in that pretty little head of yours? That you think very little of me, why I believe you think I am no gentleman at all. "

"I have no idea what you are implying, Captain Lehnsherr! You are as humble as they say-"

"I'm disappointed by this little game you're playing. Why the first time I saw you back at the Darkholme Estate, I knew you were different. I thought that at last I had met an omega who was not only beautiful but bold. I see you are only just another pretty face."

"How dare- Are you calling me a coward?" Forget his earlier ploys to be sweet on this alpha.

"That is exactly it. My first impression of you was that you were unlike all of the simpering fools out there. Why I thought that here was indeed an omega who possessed a brain and a mouth that matched his wit. Mr. Xavier knows what he wants and how to get it. You might want to work on your aim though."

"Why you-" Charles said, anger colouring his tone of voice. "If it is my mind that you want then that is precisely what you will get. You would know, had you been a creature of some standing and of a decent breeding, that you would never address an omega in such a manner. You know precisely why I want you gone from my sight. I never wanted to see you again in the first place. You are certainly not a gentleman, and a most wretched man. Just because you can slip past the MRA's blockade does not give you the right to mouth off about the alphas who are putting themselves on the front lines and the omegas who are left behind, sacrificing everything they own to the Cause-"

Charles got interrupted when a finger was pressed against his lips and the Captain said with a grin, "Stop. Please. The beginning was what I had come to admire within you, speaking everything on your mind. But I know as well as you do that you don't give a jot about the Cause. You know how I know? Why, it is simply written all over your face earlier this evening. I stood by the door and watched you before you laid eyes on me. You had the countenance of someone who just wanted to have fun and was cursing everyone else for looking so handsome in their new clothes while you sat upon your little stool with nothing but boredom to be your friend. Tell me I'm wrong."

Charles was flabbergasted. Had he truly been this transparent all along? "I have nothing more to say to you, sir. Please make yourself scarce before I deem it necessary to call for my carriage and return home in order to be rid of you. Good day."

Captain Lehnsherr laughed, another grin on his face. "I would never dream of it." He bowed to him before melting away into the crowd. Charles couldn't help but feel like a bird who had just gotten its feathers ruffled, glaring all the while until he was certain that it wasn't the back of Captain Lehnsherr's head he was staring at.

"What were you and the Captain whispering about?" Hank asked, as soon as their customers move away. "Mrs. Pryde was looking your way the entire time..."

"He is infuriating, is what he is. Nevermind him, Hank." Charles let out a low hiss and shook his head. "And as for that pudding old Mrs. Pryde, she can talk all she likes. I'm so tired of acting like some mindless omega because everyone around me is.  Now hush, Hank. Dr. Namor is making another announcement."

Old Namor started his speech by thanking everyone for their generous contributions to the Cause, all of which made Charles roll his eyes. Fanciful words coming out of that old horse.

"Now, what I'm going to propose next may came as a surprise to some of you, but please do remember that it is for the good of our hospitals and for the benefit of all the alphas that are currently lying and recuperating there. As you all know, the dancing is about to begin. We will first have a reel and then after that a waltz. The polkas and then the mazurkas will be another waltz, and then we'll have another reels. Now, I know that your young alphas are all very competitive when it comes to who will lead the first dance, and so..." Old Namor paused for effect. "If you wish to lead with the omega of your choice, you now must bid for her in an auction, with all proceeds going towards the hospital."

All the fans in the room stopped, some from uncontrollable excitement and then others from mortification. The alpha chaperones and the older wedded omegas were up in arms about this, and clearly Dr. Namor had not informed Mrs. Pryde, Mrs. Braddock nor Mrs. Worthington about these arrangements. The young alphas however all gave a loud cheer, loudly applauding as did many of the recovering men in uniforms and the younger omegas.

Charles wished he was not a widower. He wished he was out there on the dancefloor, not stuck behind a dingy little booth. He wished he was wearing one of his nicer corset vests, maybe the sky blue one that was flattering to his figure. And his hair would be brushed into a stylish wave, combed through with rose water so he would smell delectable (not that he doesn't usually). No doubt he would be the one to lead the reels. There would be a bid war from all the alphas present, paying money over to Dr. Namor. And then he wouldn't have to be sitting here on his stool and watch someone else, lead the dances.

The auction began with a little alpha dressed in grey placing thirty dollars on little young Kitty Pryde, who giggled with glee. There was the low buzzing of indignant whispers as the older omegas twittered about how unseemly it was. However the bids kept on coming thick and fast that the excited gasps drowned out their disapproval.  Charles leaned his elbow onto the counter and propped his head up and watched the proceedings.

And then after this dreadful auction was over, they would all get up and dance and everyone would have such a good time. Except for him and the old omegas in the corner who were far too arthritic to move their bags of bones to the beat. Erik Lehnsherr approached the platform, wading through the hordes of young alphas to talk to Dr. Namor. For a moment, he looked above their heads towards where Charles sat and winked, a sly smirk on his face as he arched an eyebrow in Charles' direction. He turned away with exaggeration only to pause when he heard his own name being called out in Captain Lehnsherr's voice.

"For Mr. Charles Drake, a bid of two hundred dollars."

The entire crowd fell silent, both at the mention of his name and the amount of money being bid. Charles was startled when everyone turned around to look at him, their shock mirror what he felt.

"It is impossible. He is in mourning! Perhaps someone else?" Dr. Namor asked, a little panicked.

"No," Lehnsherr's voice said clearly, his pale eyes sweeping over the crowd casually. "Only Mr. Charles Drake."

And then the whispered talking began.

"For an omega in mourning? Never heard of!"

"He isn't even that desirable!"

"If he knew what is best, he would refuse."

"It is impossible! He will not-"

Charles saw the opportunity and immediately jumped to his feet. "I most certainly will!" He doesn't care what the others would say about him. He preened a little underneath the attention that was being laid upon him, a thrill running up and down his spine. Here he was, a young bright omega at the age of twenty and now the most desired omega here. All around the dance floor everyone was whispering, but Charles didn't care, he could finally dance and no one, not even the scandalized looks upon the faces of the alpha chaperones or the older omegas could stop that now.

In fact, he revelled in their looks and held his head up high as he walked down the aisle created towards Erik Lehnsherr who was moving towards him from the opposite direction, a smile on his face. Charles ignored the swirl of colours on his right where the omegas looked on, green with envy, and the solid wall of grey and blue where the uniformed alphas stood with looks of mirrored approval. He was going to dance again and he was going to lead the first reel, the people of New London would be talking about this for months to come.

He dazzled Lehnsherr with his best and brightest smile, sweeping down into the traditional omega bow, shoulders back to make Brian and Moira proud with his hands held over his stomach. Lehnsherr returned the favour, his right hand held over his heart and bowed from the waist.

"Alright then!  Please choose your partners and here we go!" Dr. Namor's clear voice said, recovering quickly.

The orchestra struck up the first bars of the reel and Charles smiled cheerfully as they stepped towards one another.

"How dare you do this to my reputation, Captain Lehnsherr!"

"Oh, but my dear Mr. Drake, you wanted this and how was I meant to refuse? Your reputation begged me to ruin it."

"How could you stand in front of everybody here and just call my name out like that? 'Only Mr. Charles Drake', you said!  What would people think?"

"Oh, I suppose they would think we were going to have a torrid affair. Not that it wouldn't be agreeable to me, but you could have refused me."

"How could I think so selfishly when you were offering so much gold for my hand? The Cause-- Oh, would you quit laughing?"

"Not at all. The Cause will continue. You craved to dance and I merely provided you this window of opportunity. Ah, this is about the end of the reel, is it not?"

"Yes- I should probably go and sit down."

"Come now, I have not stepped upon your feet once, have I?"

"No, but then they will-"

"Do you really care what they will say about you, deep down from the bottom of your heart? And it isn't a crime to dance, correct?"

"Yes, but-"

"Dance the waltz with me."

"What would my Father-"

"Ahh yes, your father was the one that brought you into this world. Do you care so much about his opinions?"

"No. Not tonight for the very least. The waltz is about to begin, thankfully," Charles admitted, and fluidly changed his grip on Lehnsherr. His gloved hand came to rest elegantly upon Lehnsherr's shoulder. This close Charles could smell the spicy cologne that flowed off Lehnsherr's clothes, not altogether repulsive Charles was annoyed to report to himself.

Lehnsherr wasn't a complete ill-bred boor as he held Charles close enough for people to ask even more questions about their supposed intimacy, but far enough such that it was decent.

"I am proud to see you start thinking for yourself instead of that terribly boring hivemind that omegas tend to carry on with. And once you've lost what has been holding you back, you will start to learn."

"What do you mean? Learn what exactly?"

Lehnsherr gave him another mocking smile. "You know of how I am never received any longer in Marsfield, you begin to realize what a cumbersome thing maintaining a good reputation is. Now, well, now I'm truly free to do as I very well please."

"That is scandalous! It is easy for you to say when you have no family here to think of."

"Well, yes. If you were courageous enough to cast what others thought about you aside, and I suppose if you don't have enough courage then money should do the trick, you can break free from this little black shell and do as you please."

Charles felt affronted by Lehnsherr's brazen statement. "Money can't buy everything.  It can't buy love or happiness."

"But having wealth generally helps and there are some remarkable substitutes you can purchase."

"And are you so well off yourself, Captain Lehnsherr?"

"My, I'm surprised that an omega of such impeccable upbringing such as yourself could ask such a question. But, yes. I am doing well considering I had not much growing up as a child and having been cut off early as a young man. Why, I'd say I've done rather well for myself and this war is certainly helping to do its bit."

Charles gaped, looking up into Captain Lehnsherr's amused eyes. Only a man with no sense of honour could ever think of taking advantage of the situation like that. And, only a man with courage and the smarts to would, said the traitorous part of his mind.

"The people all present this evening do not realize how that all they have worked towards all their lives, passing wealth from generation to generation, will all be for nothing. When the time comes, and mark my words they will, the comfort that you are so used to now will be ruined as this society collapses. Why wait for the collapse when I can make my fortune out of the destruction?"

Charles frowned. "You truly believe that the Brotherhood will lose?"

"That is inevitable, if you have seen what I have when sailing past the blockade. Now don't make that face at me. I do my fair bit of sabotaging the enemy, I am on the side of the Brotherhood truly."

"All this talk of the war! Do you always enchant omegas in such a manner, Captain Lehnsherr?"

"I can be charming if I wish," Captain Lehnsherr said with a small huff of laughter. "Perhaps you wanted me to compliment on the colour of your eyes, although I imagine they get complimented often enough. Perhaps I should use a simile where your eyes are two ponds upon the fairest plains, markedly clear but nevertheless beautiful, that twinkle with such mischievousness makes you distractingly charming?"

Charles' cheeks flush red, very pleased though with Lehnsherr's creativity; no alpha had deemed to say more than two words to him ever since the news of Bobby's passing. "N-Now, Captain Lehnsherr... that wasn't what I meant at all. But I must say, the band is doing a most wonderful job on the music. I could just dance forever."

"You are by far the most exquisite dancer I have ever had the pleasure of dancing with. You feel most light in my arms."

"Captain Lehnsherr! Please, people are looking. You need not squeeze me so tight."

"And if they weren't looking?" Lehnsherr prompted. "Would you have still agreed to dance with me?"

"I, well, yes, of course. But it is neither proper- Do not forget yourself."

"How could I when you won't allow that to happen? Can I not merely comment on how wonderful you feel within my arms? Because you truly do."

Charles looked down to the small fleck of white seated upon the lapel of Lehnsherr's suit. Yes, he had been complimented by many, but oh it was difficult to stay unaffected by Lehnsherr for very long, not when he felt so safe in his arms and at this close distance, Lehnsherr smelt so good.

"You dance very well yourself, Captain Lehnsherr. I'm more than surprised that a man of your height and stature would be so quick and light on his feet. My only regret is I won't be able to dance again for several years."

"Not if I have my say. You will be mine for the remainder of the night and I shall bid for you again and again. Perhaps I'll give the other alphas a chance, after perhaps the seventh dance, but the last will definitely be mine." That was all said in a low growl, a possession that sent a shiver down Charles' spine. How could he not sigh softly and press in closer against Lehnsherr? The others could all be as damned as his reputation, for all Charles cared. He could just dance and dance and dance. It felt so right to be held so closely.

"The first time I laid eyes on you at Darkholme Estate, I couldn't help but think that you are the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen. I enjoyed the furious glint in your eyes when you were throwing things at me, _particularly_ when you were throwing things at me."

Charles groaned and closed his eyes. "Must you keep remembering that?"

"I will cherish that memory for as long as I live. You have quite the temper on you."

The waltz drew to a close just as Aunt Letty walked out of the back rooms. Undoubtedly one of the committee ladies would have told her, for she was looking over with scandalized eyes.

"Quick, let us walk towards the window," Charles said, stepping out of Lehnsherr's embrace but never letting go of his hand to drag him through the crowd.

True to Lehnsherr's word, he danced and stayed by Charles' side all night.

 

Charles woke up the next morning feeling energised, a smile on his face. His feet ached but it was a pleasant reminder of the extravagant evening he had just experienced. He awoke before anybody in the house was and surprised Sean when he walked into the kitchen later to begin making breakfast for the everyone.

The morning post came in just as Sean was finishing up making the waffles. There were several for Aunt Letty, but more surprisingly were the letters waiting for each Hank and Charles.

Opening his letter, Charles found letters written elegantly in black ink. It read: "If it is agreeable to you, I am still in town for several days. I should very much like to spend more time with you. Perhaps a game of chess if you are amenable to the idea of a match against me. Please let me know if you are free." He immediately folded the letter in half and slid it back inside the envelope, schooling his face into a perfect mask when Aunt Letty and Hank walked in to take their place at the table.

"Good morning," Charles greeted, chipper. Aunt Letty gave him a wary look, the purse of her lips filled with disappointment. She nodded once with much put upon reluctance. The sound of Hank's claw slicing through paper filled the air, complementing the sweet smell of waffles and the sound of cutlery against fine china.

Charles was no where on earth, high up in the clouds with his thoughts, when Hank gave a loud gasp. The sound tethered him back to earth and he watched with curious blue eyes as Hank upended the envelope to reveal his wedding band, a ring made of thick gold that upon closer inspection was an elegant twist of ravens in flight. It was the same one that he had given up last night.

"He is a very kind alpha. This is-" Hank couldn't finish his sentence and waved at Charles to read the letter.

The letter was written in the same hand as his own, crisp and bold ink upon the same parchment: "I was very moved by your display of courage yesterday for I and everyone present could tell this ring here means the world to you for what it represents. I have purchased this ring in gold to bring it home where it belongs. Yours, Captain Erik Lehnsherr."

Charles set the letter down and watched as Hank rolled the ring upon his finger, stroking over the heads of the two birds reverently with a gentle fingertip.

"We simply must have him come over for dinner tomorrow night so I can thank him in person. It would be the thing to do, wouldn't it, Aunt Letty?"

Aunt Letty reluctantly agreed,  and Sean was sent off with a list of groceries in preparation for a most extravagant dinner. Charles quickly finished his breakfast and was out the door before either Hank or Letty could do the same, dedicating his entire day to being elbow deep in blood and organs.

Dr. Munoz was unfazed by the talk of the town, about Charles' indiscretions as a long as the patients got the surgeries that they required and as quickly as possible. Surgeries typically required finesse and dexterity. But with more and more wounded everyday, and the lack of equipment and drugs to make it even bearable, Charles was left using his telepathy to the best of his abilities. It had taken a lot of trial and error, but now Charles could easily make a person unconscious or manipulate certain parts of the mind in order to stimulate or numb nerve endings as he wished; Charles had become very good at controlling his telepathy thanks to him being the acting anaesthesiologist at the hospitals.

And by the end of the day, Charles was tired, so very tired, the type that sat awkwardly in his bones like an unwanted house guest but made itself known at every step and turn he made. He had gotten accustomed to the death that clung in the halls, the slipping away of minds into sweet death's embrace. All of that had faded into background noise, when on the very first day Charles remembered vomiting into a bucket after reeling in shock when the patient had died on the operation table. By now losing a patient did not faze him at all, not when there would be five other dying patients to replace that one.

He pushed the front door open, nodding at one or two of the convalescents that loitered outside on the lawn enjoying the sunshine in the shade offered by the dogwood trees. The sound of his name being called out pulls him out of his thoughts. "Mr. Drake!"

Charles squinted against the sun, bringing his hand up to blink through the cracks of his fingers. There in the distance stood Captain Lehnsherr, one hand petting the nose of the horse pulling a handsome buggy, a disarming smile on his face. What was the Captain doing here? Captain Lehnsherr was expected later in the evening at the house, and most certainly not at the hospital that Charles was working at.  He hesitated for a long moment, wondering if it would be wise to approach given the propensity for the omegas in New London to spread gossip; Charles was expecting a letter from home any day now.

Letting out a sigh, he ran a gloved hand through his messy curls in the hopes of appearing more presentable, more human and less like the pile of mush Charles truly felt. "Good afternoon, Captain Lehnsherr. May I ask why you are coincidentally here at the end of my shift?"

"Can I not be passing by this area? Surely you must be tired from spending all day on your feet stuck in a place like this. Not that I don't admire all the work you have done, of course. Won't you do me the honour of offering you a ride back? Or are you once again worried about the poisonous whisperings of old fools?"

Charles raised an eyebrow but haughtily replied that he was indeed not worried about any such thing, he was now quite famous for the amount of hours he put into the hospital, and demanded to be assisted into the buggy; a task that Captain Lehnsherr performed with much exaggerated charm and grace.

The buggy was surprisingly comfortable, the seats cushioned for comfort and the blanket that Captain Lehnsherr draped over his knees was soft, and made of velvet in a deep maroon colour. It was there to prevent any dirt from covering his fine clothes, Moira had once told him sternly as a young child. The horse moved with sure steps forward, jolting the carriage into motion forward.

"I confess that you have caught me off guard, Captain Lehnsherr. I was hoping to return home in time for a brief rest and-" his sentence was cut off when Charles yawned loudly into the back of his hand, "-pardon me, and be refreshed for the evening."

"I did not expect to be entertained the entire way, and I am not inhumane as to request that you do. In fact, why don't you rest your eyes for the ride back?" It was a wonderful suggestion, Charles thought, although it would mean putting his trust in an alpha that he still wasn't all that certain of. For all he knew, Captain Lehnsherr was going to kidnap him and ride back to his lair where he would be kept as an omega captive to be used whenever he pleased like in those rubbish omega romance novels.

Captain Lehnsherr hummed a tune underneath his breath, a low rumble and purr of a song that Charles was certain he knew because Sharon often sang it back at Westchester, albeit awfully off-key as it wasn't in her vocal range. It was familiar and soothing, a tale of an alpha finding his way in life and then meeting the omega of his dreams. Before Charles knew it, he had nodded off to the smell of horse, dust, and whatever cologne that Captain Lehnsherr was wearing. It was startling to find that it smelt not at all unpleasant.

Charles awoke with a jolt when the buggy drew to a stop outside the house. His head had migrated onto the Captain's shoulder, a position that would have looked endearing on anyone else but a widower and their resident blockader with questionable motives. Oh, there was no doubt that someone had seen them riding through town together. It wasn't even a question of how many had seen, Charles was sure it would be relayed enough times for everyone back at Westchester to know. He quickly snapped upright into his seat, spine straight and he clutched the cloth underneath his gloves. A stern letter was guaranteed to be making its way already to their post-box.

"We've arrived," Lehnsherr commented as if Charles had temporarily lost the use of his eyes and does not recognize his own home when it was right there on the sidewalk.

Charles hastily climbed out, the knee blanket now a mess of folds scrunched up on the seat beside him. "Thank you for the ride. Won't you come in?" They were there already after all, even if Captain Lehnsherr was several hours early. Charles didn't care whether the Captain stayed or went, but it wouldn't do to be impolite.

"I have some business to take care of first," Lehnsherr said with a knowing twinkle in his eye. "Till this evening, Mr. Drake." He doffed an imaginary hat and clucked his tongue, flicking the reins with his wrists and told the horse to walk on.

Charles turned on his heel and into the house, scratching Professor underneath his chin when the dog came to greet him at the door. It would be a scant few hours before he was required to look presentable. And an afternoon nap did sound far more appealing now that he had the comfort of his own bed to do it in.  Yes, that did sound most agreeable.

By the time Lehnsherr showed up at the front door hours later, Charles felt rejuvenated from his afternoon sojourn and was curled up in the living room with a heavy genetics tome in his lap. Hank was penning a letter at the table by the fireplace where an ancient chess set sat, untouched for months and performing its duty of gathering dust with much aplomb. The book closed with a soft snap when Sean lead Lehnsherr into the living room.

"Ma'am, Captain Lehnsherr sir is here," Sean greeted cheerfully. "Dinner is almost ready." He bowed quickly and Charles idly tracked his progress from the living room back to the kitchen where Aunt Letty was barking out orders like a military sergeant.

Charles unfurled from his seat and watched as Lehnsherr bowed. "Good evening."

Hank and Charles reciprocated and exchanged a quick furtive glance at one another. "That it is," Hank agreed, stepping up to place his hand on Lehnsherr's forearm, leading him over to sit on the same couch Charles had been seated at earlier.

"Come, sit by Charles here please. I imagine Aunt Letty won't be pleased if we go trooping into the dining room before everything is ready. Can I offer you a drink first? Some of our scotch or perhaps a little of the apple ale that was sent by dear Charles' family?"

Charles sunk into the corner opposite Lehnsherr and reopened his book again, no matter how rude it was to have done so in the presence of their guest. Hank would be more than capable of holding down the fort and keeping the conversation going. It didn't explain why Charles kept flicking his gaze over to the long, elegant splay of Lehnsherr's legs where his tailored pants showed off just how very lean Captain Lehnsherr was and- Charles looked away quickly before he was caught inspecting Lehnsherr like that, especially that. His cheeks flooded with shame and he quickly turned the page, thankfully without either Hank or Lehnsherr realizing.

"That is very kind of you, Mr. Darkholme. The ale please," Lehnsherr turned towards Charles, yet another one of his mysterious smiles playing on his lips. "I never did get to visit Westchester for myself. I was quite impressed from the small sampling I tasted before."

This was the part where Charles was meant to come in and offer an invitation up, one that he was certain Lehnsherr would undoubtedly take up. Charles met Lehnsherr's gaze and felt his breath hitch. Expectation was written all over his face and his blue-grey eyes twinkled with mischief, a hint of hunger as obvious as the curious green specks in those eyes. Never had Raven looked at him in such a manner. No, that look on Lehnsherr's face could not compare at all to dear beloved Raven's face.

He was saved from having to answer appropriately when Aunt Letty walked in, her cheeks a bright red. They all jumped to their feet. "Captain Lehnsherr! Please. I hope the lads have made you feel welcome in my home. Oh! You've poured him a glass of apple ale. Good. How do you find it? You know our darling Charles here gets sent a cask every month. And with just the three of us omegas in the house, why, we've got a surplus in our pantry. You must simply have to do your bit to help us."

"I just might take you up on that offer," Lehnsherr said as he walked across to the door and offered his arm out. It made Aunt Letty giggle in a manner that didn't suit her, Charles thought darkly, watching as Aunt Letty called Captain Lehnsherr a most chivalrous alpha and lead him down the hall and into the dining room.

"Oh, this is so very exciting," Hank said, putting down the bottle he had been pouring from. "And I haven't thanked him yet. I simply must do so during dinner!"

Charles muttered something vaguely encouraging underneath his breath as they trailed into the official dining room where the best silver was laid out.

Sean had outdone himself with the three course meal he had cooked. Even Aunt Letty was pleased by the display and effort that Sean had put into meal and had given him the night off after the dishes were done.

After dinner, they moved back into the living room where they talked about the war not at all. Captain Lehnsherr was a skilled conversationalist and Charles hadn't laughed so hard in so very long.

"Do either of you play?" Captain Lehnsherr asked during a lull when refilling their drinks and Aunt Letty had bade them goodnight to go to bed. He was talking about the chess-set, pointing at it with the bottom of the bottle.

Hank smiled. "A little. I'm nowhere near as good as Charles is."

The question was a reference to Charles' letter that morning. Charles was convinced Lehnsherr was bringing it up as a reminder. "Not since I left Westchester," Charles admitted, accepting his tumbler with a quiet nod of thanks. He had been taught to play by Brian and had never found an opponent that could outmatch him. "I never found anyone who was willing to play."

"Would you fancy a game, Mr. Drake?"

"If you are so eager to lose," Charles replied with an easy smile as he rose from his seat to settle into the chair facing white.

Charles won that night, but insisted it was just luck such as to be a more gracious loser and extended an invitation to play again. Charles suspected that it was what Captain Lehnsherr wanted all along.

 

The war continued, days crawling by. The Brotherhood were still winning, barely just. The MRA were proving to be more resilient than initially expected and people were starting to realize that it would take more than just the next battle in order to win in one fell swoop.

The price for living had gone up, food becoming more expensive. As the trains kept rolling in, more and more wounded were brought in. New London's hospitals and homes were already filled with the sick and the recovering, and more and more omegafolk were wearing black and the cemetery where new rows of soldier graves were added to it daily.

Food was heavily levied and taxed and the tables of New London were starting to see the effects of this. Meat was scarcer now, with chicken being eaten in abundance now that beef and mutton stocks could only be afforded by the rich. There wasn't any wheat left to be made into bread that corn was being used as a substitute.

The hospital stocks of medicine were dwindling to worrying levels; there was only so much a psionic mutation could do to replace some of that stock, however the spread of infection was something that could not be affected by such abilities. The bandages and wraps that would have once dressed the dead were now being recycled as those that worked at the hospital took them home to be washed and dried, ready to be used on the next patient.

Charles, now free from the confines of being a grieving widower, could once more wear colour, something that he did with great relish. The lack of choices on their dinner table did not matter to Charles, not when he could finally breathe.

The MRA's blockade had tightened and Charles hardly got to meet up with Captain Lehnsherr for a game of chess (although the alpha always made it a point to call upon him at least once a week). And even when he did slip into the port of Hammer Bay and delivered his goods to New London, Captain Lehnsherr would be gone the following morning. Now, no one cared a jot if Captain Lehnsherr was indeed romancing him.

Now free from his former limitations during his prime mourning period, Charles found he didn't have a lack of suitors. People now referred to him as 'Mr. Charles', a change in his title that reflected this and was still respecting of the late Bobby Drake. His admirers were numerous and often there were alphas calling at the house for him, commenting upon how beautiful and clever he was to have self-taught himself medicine during times of need. There was not one day that passed that Charles did not think about Raven, for his heart will continue to belong solely to her, yet he felt no guilt when other alphas were interested in asking for his hand in marriage.

The younger omegas were smitten with their brave alpha beaus, driving their omega parents for their smelling salts. It just wasn't done to see their children holding hands with nameless and titleless vagabonds, some were even bold enough to kiss in public. Weddings occurred as often as cemetery burials. The young omegas refused to be ashamed for their actions, stating it was all in the name of love.

Alphas who were returning to the frontline often could not wait the appropriate year long courting period, not when they were expected to not return. War had driven the standards to a whole new level as formal and standard courtships became a thing of the past. Any omega with exceptional breeding would refuse the first three times an alpha was to propose, but would promptly rush headlong into a marriage as soon as their alpha asked a fourth time.

Charles was internally gleeful for the change in attitudes and the informality of the entire courting process, not that he had the time to be carrying on like some love-smitten teenager in between all the lives he was busy saving. He was in great spirits now that he had more or less reverted to the time before he had agreed, however naively and spontaneously, to marry Bobby Drake. He chose to compartmentalize that part out of his mind, it was after all in the past.

His work was important to him and every day he saved the lives of soldiers upon his surgery table, was another notch in his belt. He didn't dwell or linger on the fact that sometimes someone who could have been perfectly fine after leaving his surgical room would be pronounced dead the day after. There would be others to grieve for the fallen alpha but it was not his place, not when there were lines of others waiting to receive treatment.

He spent time going to visit his family back at Westchester. Both Angel and Anna-Marie had grown up into beautiful girls that he hardly recognized. Angel was useless, often staring out the window or seated on the front porch as she waited for Sebastian Shaw to come calling. Anna-Marie was still bitter about Charles getting to Bobby Drake first, but the old anger had subsided away when thoughts of Remy LeBeau kept her mind busy. Sharon had taken a leaf out of someone's book and was studiously keeping Westchester running every day of the year. Westchester had expanded somewhat and there were many acres of apples that required to be picked.

Every time he returned, he longed for some alone time with Brian, to speak and flaunt of his new found talents in understanding human anatomy or just sit down and soak in the warmth from Brian's knee as they sat with their heads together in his study. However, both of his parents were far too busy managing Westchester's produce to meet the demands of the Brotherhood.

Brian was occupied with the matters of state, on his feet and outdoors marshalling the workingfolk into the orchard from dawn to dusk. There were always projects that needed his immediate attention and Charles learnt and helped when he could, learning the finer arts of beekeeping and the numerous preserving techniques that Brian had invented whilst he had been away at New London. What little time he got to spend with Brian, Charles cherished.

There must be something about his childhood room and being surrounded by all his comforting things that triggered his heat. He spent five days holed up inside his room, rutting against his bedsheets and craving for more as his skin itched in a manner that was difficult to scratch. Moira brought up his food and water to him but could do nothing except for wipe away the sweat that beaded his forehead before leaving him to suffer alone.

When letters arrived from New London asking for his inevitable return, Charles would deliberate for a day afterwards when he ought to leave. There was still much to be done at Westchester. Brian would smile tiredly over dinner and remind him of the important work he does working as a doctor. "I wish you had more time to stay too, Charles," Brian said as he raked his fingers through Charles' hair, with Charles's seated upon a cushion by his feet. "But there are people that are counting on you and your abilities. I can feel you are undecided upon the matter. Do not be sad. Westchester isn't going anywhere and neither am I. My only regret is that we have hardly had the time to speak during your visits. You are now grown up and no longer my little boy. You are your own omega, and I wish time wasn't moving so quickly."

"I will always be your little boy," Charles murmured, his words muffled against the fabric of Brian's pants.

 

During the months after he returned to New London, he saw an increase of Erik Lehnsherr. Whenever there was a new dance or ball or bazaar announced, Erik would often take him, acting as his alpha escort. Erik derived much joy in saying 'Mr. Charles', in a manner that always seemed to send shivers down his spine and a hasty scowl onto his face lest Erik got the wrong message. Almost every day that Charles worked at the hospital, Erik would be there at the end of his shift to drive him home.

Erik never had any intention of betraying his secret to anyone, but it always served as a reminder to Charles' temper and tongue that Erik had seen him at perhaps his lowest point, when he had been young and impulsive, and most importantly Erik knew all about Raven. It was the only advantage that Erik held over him, aside from his fascinating ability to manipulate magnetic material which was the secret to how Erik managed to slip all sorts of goods through the MRA blockade. Now that he had come to know Erik better, Charles couldn't very well erase that memory with his telepathy. It would indeed make his life certainly easier, however, Erik had somehow slipped undetected past his boundaries and had landed himself firmly on the list of people that Charles would never use his telepathy on. And so Charles stayed his tongue whenever Erik teased him, something that happened far too often than Charles liked.

Erik was older than any of the alphas that paid attention to him. He was incredibly witty, intelligent, world weary and wore his experiences proudly like armour. Nothing ever fazed him, in fact, Charles often went out of his way to try and surprise Erik only to find it met with endless amusement. Erik knew precisely which buttons to push to bait him over games of chess and it drew Charles endlessly up the wall as he struggled to control his flaring temper; a temper that also seemed to delight Erik. Never once had Charles seen Erik lose his cool and Charles silently vowed one day to witness that happening.

Erik would always return faithfully to New London with boxes of little trinkets and treats. Charles had been immediately charmed by the chocolates filled with liqueur that Erik had given him on his latest blockade run. And often at the social gatherings that Erik accompanied Charles to, he would claim the seat directly next to Charles or sweep Charles into his arms during the breaks in music and gently cajole him into dancing the next three with Erik. Erik's audacity to go against social norms amused Charles endlessly and often he would forget if he had been angry at Erik for some small matter until the next time Erik mocked him all in the name of harmless fun.

Despite how insufferable Charles seemed to proclaim Erik was, he had grown to look forward to when Erik called. To Charles, this alpha represented something exciting and there was a quality about him that he could not find in any other person. Erik challenged him in all the right ways and he was a tall man that always commanded attention whenever he walked into a room, although his reputation certainly helped draw disapproving glances. He was an untameable creature and there was no chance that Charles was in love with Erik.

Thankfully, he wasn't the only one unaffected by Erik's charms. Aunt Letty was entirely in his pocket, especially when presented by small little trinkets that were becoming increasingly hard to come by. And although Captain Lehnsherr was still regarded as a braggard and not fit for polite society, Aunt Letty had folded like a house of cards when presented with the gifts. Had Aunt Letty possessed a stiffer backbone, she would have likely refused, but she was completely swept along and charmed by Erik's words and gestures. How was she to refuse when Erik vowed solemnly that he had placed his life at risk just to get her buttons and pins and coloured thread?

In the mornings after Erik's visits, Aunt Letty would always sigh. "I only wished he wasn't so very mysterious. I can't just help but feel that he isn't all that genuine about his respect for omegafolk like us."

Hank, on the other hand, was quick to defend Erik. Especially after the return of the golden band that sat proudly on his finger where it belonged. He was still a little timid around Erik, but quickly he was warming up to the courteous way Erik spoke to him. Hank often thought that it was a shame that Erik had found himself in such a situation, and predicted it had been a past slight that had made Erik so cynical. He firmly envisioned that Erik had never been truly loved by an omega and naively thought that love was the one thing that would help.

Charles had noticed the way that Erik looked at Hank, a lack of fire in his gaze that was so different from the way that Erik looked at him as if he wanted nothing more than to unclothe him. He became especially respectful when he spoke to Hank, his voice gentling and absent of his usual mockery.

One afternoon, after Hank and Aunt Letty had left to take their afternoon naps, Charles spent the duration of three chess matches to scrutinize Erik's face at length. Earlier, Hank had been telling Erik at length and with much pride about Raven's recent promotion to the rank of major. Charles knew that Erik was indifferent about Raven, except whenever it was to use that name to tease Charles. And yet, he had been unerringly polite and made all the appropriate comments related to Raven's bravery and conduct.

"And what are we thinking about so loudly over there?" Erik asked, breaking the long silence as he claimed one of Charles' pawns. His eyebrow was cocked upwards.  The game so far was evenly matched with Erik at a slight advantage now.

"What is it about Hank that makes you so nice to him?"

"Is that jealousy I am sensing from you, Charles?"

Charles gave him a deadpan look and shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous, Erik. Answer the question."

"Alas, an alpha can dream," Erik said with a smile. "There is no reason as to 'why'. Mr. Darkholme is a timid sort and his heart is pure. Why, he is possibly the only omega I have met that is so unfailingly sincere and kind to everyone that knows him; most definitely one of the greatest gentleomegas that I have the pleasure of knowing. I can only imagine as to why you haven't observed these same qualities in him."

Charles scoffed at Erik's sarcasm and slid a rook forward, capturing one of Erik's knights. "And what about me?"

"What about you?"

"And did you mean to imply that I am not one of the greatest gentleomegas that you have met?"

Erik roared with laughter, the action making Charles seethe as his feathers were ruffled. He leaned forward to sit on the edge of his seat and nudged a pawn forward. "We can both agree that our first meeting had established that you are the antithesis of what a gentleomega should be, don't you think?"

"How rude! I have changed since then you know. I am no longer a child prone to tantrums." Charles retorted. "If you are going to be like that, I'm not going to play chess with you. How could you still bring that up when it has already been so long!"

Erik's eyes sparkled as he took a sip of his apple cider. "And that little bit at the end proves to me that you haven't at all. Why I have no doubt you would throw a vase at my head if it meant I stood in the way between what you wanted. And thankfully you usually do, otherwise there would be far too much broken pieces laying about everywhere for someone to get hurt on."

"Oh, if only I was born an alpha! I would make you eat those words and-"

"-And get hurt in the process. Do you forget that no bullet can possibly touch me? You should stick to what you have now since you can't change who you are - well, unless you possessed a gift that allowed you to. See? There is no need for bloodshed."

"You, sir, are a rogue!"

Erik chuckled in amusement and reached down to ruffle Professor's floppy ears. Charles noted that his dog had become rather fond of Erik as of late, the traitor. "Indeed I am. Any alpha may be a rogue if they so wished and I choose to wear this title proudly. You are going to have to try a lot harder than that if you think I will get mad for listing things that are true, Charles. It is only omegas like you who get into a snit when called out for being the hypocrites that you are. It's your move, Charles."

Charles grumbled and moved his queen. The weapons that he had often wielded with such familiarity affected Erik none at all, sloughing off his skin like raindrops. When he had been younger, Charles would often use sarcasm and sass to get his way. No matter how hard Charles tried to outmaneuver an alpha like Erik who freely admitted to being everything, Charles was the one that often ended up frustrated for Erik goaded him to label him further.

And for all of Erik's affections and deeds that one would consider coming from a lover, he continued to remain at arm's length. Erik never once made love to Charles or asked for any of Charles' possessions to remember him by; he was never jealous of the alphas that swarmed around Charles when he was away and most frustrating of all was the way that Erik seemed to know exactly what was going on. And Charles was meant to be the telepath!

Charles had taken to surreptitiously combing through Hank's thoughts and memories for any mention of himself in his private correspondence with Raven. Although Hank was very generous with sharing the letters he received from her, Charles wanted to know if perhaps Raven thought of him at all when fighting on the front lines. There were always a few pages that Hank withheld, and Charles had taken to peering as subtly as possible to read over Hank's shoulders. It wasn't abusing his telepathy if it was for the sake of knowing where he stood with Raven. But the only knowledge he received from snooping around Hank's mind was related to war and Raven's talk of ideals that Charles had quickly left Hank's thoughts until the next letter came.

It was also astonishing to see Erik's popularity rising with each successful blockade run. Not that Charles was jealous or wanted to know how Erik spent his personal time when he wasn't playing chess, drinking apple cider, accompanying him to the latest ball or in some way spending time with Charles. But like with all good things that went up, they also must come down.

It happened during one of Mrs. Worthington's balls that she had been holding in honour of the Brotherhood. Things had gotten heated during one of the speeches in which Erik had commented that the war itself wasn't sacred. How could something that was designed to save Genosha be nothing less than sacred?

That had sparked many shouts of outrage from across the board and Charles only wished Erik hadn't said anything in order to spare his ears when Mrs. Worthington decided to share a carriage back with Aunt Letty, Hank and Charles with nothing but bad things to say about Erik.

"This is why you should have never encouraged that man to stay in your house!"

Aunt Letty looked torn, entirely too upset to say anything to defend Erik, the very alpha who had gone out of his way to bring her little knick-knacks. She floundered and gave helpless looks at Hank and Charles, who exchanged glances of their own but quietly said nothing. Neither of them were willing to call Mrs. Worthington out when it came to her inviting Erik to stay inside her house.

Mrs. Worthington continued to call Erik a long list of names, none of which were news to Charles having used those terms himself during the long progression of his own relationship with Erik. She carried on, "That man! Oh, how dare he call the Cause nothing but sacred? How could he say that we had been fighting for all the wrong reasons? How could anything but the words that our esteemed General Farouk have said be nothing else but truths?  Why I believe he ought to be put into jail and with most post-haste. If only my noble Mr. Worthington was not already out there in the middle of a fight, that scoundrel will be shown what for! Now you listen well, Letty McCoy. You must never let that alpha inside your house ever again! Both Charles and Hank are still young and it is your responsibility as the older omega to look after the younger."

"Well... If you think it is appropriate..."

"And I most certainly do!" Mrs. Worthington said firmly. "There was a reason everyone in Marsfield no longer receives such a scoundrel. If I get my way, I will make sure no one in New London will do the same. And I can only achieve that if you grow a spine, woman!"

Charles had gone from studying his gloves to glaring furiously, defiantly at Mrs. Worthington. Rage was pulsing underneath his clenched fists. Beside him, Hank was growling low enough for Mrs. Worthington not to hear over her speel. How dare this old frumpy omega call Erik that?

"Neither of you should ever talk to him again!" Mrs. Worthington concluded. "Hank, what is the matter with your eyes?"

Hank had narrowed them, a rare enough sight that it startled Charles. "Mrs. Worthington," Hank began, "I will speak to Erik again. I will not be rude to forbid him into entering our house." His voice carried enough hint of threat to shut Mrs. Worthington long enough.

"Neither will I," Charles declared loudly, as a show of solidarity. He subtly leaned in against Hank's arm to show that he wasn't alone in thinking it.

"Although, I do agree that it was rude of him to say so at such a gathering," Hank agreed, stuttering a little despite Charles' show of support. "But how could I refuse him when he shares the same thoughts and ideals as Raven? It would be entirely hypocritical of me."

Mrs. Worthington, now having well recovered her breath, bellowed, "How dare- you talk to me in such a manner, Henry Darkholme! Why I have never heard such lies being spoken by anyone before. Never have I met a Darkholme that was a coward-"

"I never said Raven or anyone else was a coward," Hank replied, golden eyes flashing with an emotion that startled Charles, for Hank was always so sweet natured and understanding. "I merely stated the fact that she thinks the same as what Captain Lehnsherr had said today only in written words."

"You only wish to hear what you want to hear," Charles added. "I may have been foolish and naive once, but nothing Hank or Erik has said today are untrue."

"Raven wrote that this war is costing more than just human lives, it is costing the Brotherhood its soldiers too. We were far too prideful believing that our bloodlines could possibly differentiate such drastically that we could forget we are also human," said Hank. "Nothing in the world is worth the amount of death that has already occurred.  It has already cost Charles his wedded alpha. How many others should be lost to misery and dirt under the misconception of glory?"

"Foolish boy!  You must have misinterpreted what was in the letter!"

Hank shook his head. "I would never misinterpret Raven nor anything she would write to me."

As if sensing she had lost the argument, Mrs. Worthington quickly alighted at the nearest carriage block and muttered darkly about deserters of the Cause. Charles snorted, shaking his head to clear his thoughts a little but was otherwise quiet on the ride back.

He hadn't realised it until now how closely linked Erik's thoughts were to Raven's, certainly Raven's was packaged nicer, but when stripped away of everything all the fundamental principles were the same. Only Raven was willing to die for her beliefs and Erik possessed enough good sense not to be entangled in the mess, despite having an ability that would be most suited for battle, especially against bullets. And yet, Erik had enough courage to name the war precisely for what it was by addressing the elephant in the room, repercussions be damned.  But Raven could only write about it in private missives that wouldn't see the light of day.

 

 

 

 

* * *

  
_"Not if I have my say. You will be mine for the remainder of the night and I shall bid for you again and again. Perhaps I'll give the other alphas a chance, after perhaps the seventh dance, but the last will definitely be mine." That was all said in a low growl, a possession that sent a shiver down Charles' spine. How could he not sigh softly and press in closer against Lehnsherr? The others could all be as damned as his reputation, for all Charles cared. He could just dance and dance and dance. It felt so right to be held so closely._


	3. Chapter 3

Raven wrote home three months before she would return on her first furlough in two years. The letter was brief and Hank had tearfully read it aloud for Charles and Letty to hear. Charles had spent the entire day on autopilot, his emotions at war with his thoughts. It had been so long since he had last seen Raven. Would she still look the same? She would be decorated, that's for sure, and Charles could never resist an alpha that wore their uniform with pride. All his suppressed feelings for Raven were coming to the fore. What they said about absence making the heart fonder was completely true, for Charles never realised how intensely those feelings had developed ever since he last saw the wedding between Raven and Hank at the Darkholme Estate.

Raven was the pinnacle of Charles' desire and after years of repression, of daydreaming, of Raven being the end goal, he wasn't sure it was healthy to still feel the love he harboured for her - for a married alpha for God's sake - as keenly as he did.

For the Raven that stepped off the train, that patched up uniform looking crisp upon her shoulders, was different from the younger Raven who had indulged Charles anything he wished. She was transformed and her carriage was filled with confidence, the war having not broken her spirit. Charles couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine as he realised that Raven's promotion suited her well, for she wore authority and held an air of competency about her. Now here was an alpha that could be relied upon, Raven's body shouted. Her blue scaled skin shone brightly and her eyes were assessing in a cold detached sort of way. Raven had inherited some of Hank's more leonine features, every line about her spoke of a cat's grace, and still remained the same, still had the same qualities that attracted and excited Charles.

Had Raven intended to stay at Twelve Oaks, Charles would have happily returned to Westchester in order to be close enough to visit and visit often. But the entire Darkholme family had instead descended upon New London, taking up residence in one of the hotels. Brian had been disappointed to hear that Charles had intended to stay in New London, but Charles had promised that he would visit before the start of the new year. After all, Westchester will always be there for Charles to visit, but missing the chance to see Raven alive and well with his very own eyes was unacceptable.

The Darkholmes fit inside the sitting parlour of Aunt Letty's home. Raven lounged regally in the middle of the three seater couch, her arm hanging around Hank's waist and the other around her younger brother's shoulders. Sparrow looked pleased to have his older sister back again. Charles was just thrilled to be in the same room as Raven, to be able to ogle shamelessly from across the room as he sat on the chair next to the chess set. Oh, if only he was plastered against Raven's other side! If only he could just reach out and touch, to know that Raven was real and existed as he did, to hold onto Raven's hand with their fingers interlaced as he dabbed at the corner of his eyes with his handkerchief. Like what Hank was doing right now, so shamelessly, with the biggest smile on his face. There was an open look of adoration on Hank's face that was mirrored on Raven's, who smiled and wept and smiled some more.

Charles remembered the feel of Raven's lips against his cheek, a phantom touch that Charles would cherish the memory of for a long time to come; he hadn't been the first to receive Raven's kiss though, but he doesn't mind. Raven arrived on the first train into New London and Hank had fought through the throngs of other anxious family members to get to Raven first, hurling his tall and lanky form at her and wept openly into her uniform. Sparrow and Raven's parents had to wait until Hank had eased up in order to hug and kiss Raven. Everyone was far too joyful and it had brought a smile to Charles' face, glad to have been included in this moment. He had waited impatiently until Raven, surrounded by all her family, finally noticed him. She had crowed and proclaimed Charles 'her gorgeous pretty thing' and then had leaned over and kissed his cheekbone.

Charles had blushed to the tips of his hair and forgotten how to function until several hours later. He wondered had Raven not had her family around her and Hank was not present if she would have swept him up into her arms and given her the kiss he deserved, and then held him for a long time. He believed she would have and they would have spent many hours later reminiscing of times before the war began about the rides that they took together, or the picnics they took together in the Westchester orchards just watching clouds roll by. And then perhaps after that, he would have been able to see underneath the spousely affection she held for Hank to see the passion she harboured just for him alone.

The night wore on and Charles doubted he would ever get used to seeing Raven at the breakfast table. Hank was constantly by Raven's side. Charles ached to be alone with Raven for just a minute, long enough to say what has been on his mind all this time, but it was difficult to wrench Hank away. Over supper, everyone asked Raven about the war, what it was like to fight amongst the dirt and misery and her role. Everyone listened with rapt attention as Raven answered every question patiently, laughing throughout for the entire time and taking control of the conversation like she would have done her platoon. She told them stories about the people that she had met, the people she commanded and gave colourful descriptions of the conditions on the front line.

Charles knew better. His conversations with Erik had helped him from being disillusioned about life on the front, with all the carnage and bullet shells flying constantly. To Charles, he wondered if Raven was talking so much in order to avoid answering the more hard hitting questions. The ones that would make the light in Raven's eyes dim and her words falter and stutter to a stop for a fleeting moment until she picked up the thread of conversation again, deflecting down in another direction. He also prickled when he realised that someone was going into heat, but which of the omegas present he could not say.

At the conclusion of supper, when it was becoming late and young Sparrow was wilting from the call of slumber, the Darkholmes left Aunt Letty's house. They had all decided to call it an early night. Aunt Letty had bade them all a good night, disappearing behind her door. Raven's hand was captured tightly in Hank's who lead the way. Charles watched quietly when Raven whispered something and Hank merely nodded quietly, a flush on his cheeks that made the blue of his fur appear more muted. Hank didn't appear to be afraid out of fear, but there was something about them, about Hank's silent euphoria that set Charles on edge that made him want to use his telepathy to find out exactly what.

And yet, when Hank opened the door to his bedroom without bidding Charles good night, he knew precisely what it was earlier that he had sensed. Raven gruffly said good night, a low thrum of possessiveness in the way she growled when she walked in through the door and closed it behind her. Neither of them could meet his eye and Charles lay awake at night, hearing and knowing exactly what was going on behind Hank's bedroom door.

He slept poorly that night and once morning came, Charles pretended it hadn't happened. He dutifully went to the Hospital to work, even asking Dr. Darwin to allow him to work extra hours in order to avoid returning home. Erik had gone away, chased away by Mrs. Worthington's poison that had spread quickly through the town like wildfire. Charles wasn't sure if Erik would ever return to New London but the ache inside his heart couldn't be filled with Raven's smile or glowing praises. He could no longer delude himself that Raven wasn't someone that could call Charles' own; She belonged solely to Hank and Hank's alone. It made Charles acutely aware of the cold solitude clawing inside his heart.

  
  


Raven's furlough felt far too short and her departure was met with tears from everyone but Charles. She was going back to the front where death and cold and hunger awaited her. Time had flown by and Charles had never had the time to be alone with Raven, never had the time to say anything. Either he was at the hospital or she had been constantly surrounded by family, friends and neighbours. And then, when night fell, and after they had all finished supper and decided to go to bed, she had retreated with Hank into the sanctuary behind closed doors. In the entire time of her furlough, Raven had been nothing but courteous, showing the appropriate amount of affection that one would typically show a long time friend or one might show a sibling.

He waited quietly for Raven to walk out of Hank's room in the downstairs parlour, sat upon the settee with his fingers fidgeting with the ends of his waistcoat. Charles would be patient. He could wait until Raven walked downstairs in order to speak to her privately. It would be the last chance he got between now and the station. The scarf he had made sat next to him. It was knitted from red wool, a rarity so late in the war now. Perhaps Charles should have asked if it were possible to join them and see Raven off personally. And it never hurt to ask.

The sound of the door opening and closing alerted Charles that Raven was finally ready to go. He heard her walking down the steps and looked up when she reached the landing. His gift to Raven paled in comparison to the coat that Hank had been putting together for the longest time, but Charles was convinced Raven would love it all the same, possibly even more than Hank's coat.

The sabre she carried made a light slapping noise against her thigh and Charles felt his breath being taken away by how handsome Raven looked in her gleaming belt and her blinding boots. Yet her face appeared gaunt, as if Raven had just been sucker punched and any joy that Charles felt for finally having some alone time with Raven subsided. This was not a joyous occasion, in fact, Raven looked like it was far from that for she looked like she was trying to smile but was failing at such a simple task.

"Raven," Charles whispered reverently, his syllables being carried upon the wings of small birds.

"Charles."

He hesitated for a brief moment, wondering how well received his plan would be to suggest whether it would be possible to go with her and the family to the station. It was worth a try.

"Oh no, Charles," Raven said as she approached him. "My father and brother shall be there, and there will be so many people there as it is. I would much prefer it if we parted ways here such that I can remember you as you are now." She reached out to brush his bangs off his face. "There."

Charles felt his cheeks flush and then hastily covered it up with a cough. "Then, I shall stay here. Before I forget, I made you a little something." He trotted quickly over to the settee and picked up the scarf, presenting it to Raven; he had spent a long time devising the birdlike pattern to knit.

"Oh Charles, this is beautiful. And you made this for me? Why I'm going to be the envy of my entire platoon with my new coat. And it is ever so cold out there, thank you Charles," Raven said, gently looping the length around her neck, where the long length of wool sat handsomely. It would hopefully serve its purpose by keeping her warm on the long and bitter nights, and she could gaze upon the length around her neck and remember Charles was the one that had made this for her.

"I imagine it wouldn't have been easy to have found the wool. Did you pull apart one of your sweaters to make this? You really shouldn't have, Charles. You shouldn't ruin such a beautiful sweater for my sake."

Charles licked his lips and shook his head. "I would do anything for you, Raven." He couldn't bring himself to let her know that he would be more than willing to give his heart to her if she wished for it.

Raven blinked and her face transformed, brightening a little as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Would you? There is something that would set my mind at ease if you could do this one thing for me, Charles."

"Anything, Raven. You only need ask."

"Can you look after Hank for me while I am away?"

"Look after Hank...?"

Raven nodded and gently grasped Charles' hands in between hers. "Please, Charles. I'm wary that he may burn himself out nursing. He doesn't have anyone here except for Aunt Letty and you. And you and I both know how Aunt Letty is, she can barely look after herself at the best of times. I know Hank, with the big heart that he owns, has come to love and cares for you deeply. Not because you were married to Bobby but because of your spirit, Charles. I want to be certain that if I were to die on the battlefield, that he will have you. Promise me?"

Charles nodded once. She looked relieved by his acquiescence and let Charles' hands drop. "Good. I cannot vouch for where I shall be if and when the end does come, but I will be glad to know that Hank will be cared for."

"What did you mean by the end?"

Raven sighed and ran a hand through her short red hair. "What we have worked for our entire lives will cease to exist soon enough. General Farouk is losing. Every day is a struggle, Charles, and it would be nigh impossible for us to win. Not against the latest weaponry that the MRA has developed."

"But you said-"

"I'm afraid I said a great many things, Charles. Most of them were lies, as alphas tend to do when they are on their furlough. I know you are a clever omega, one of the cleverest I know, and that you would have noticed these things. There wasn't any point in me telling Aunt Letty or scaring Hank, now was there? Supplies are running short and the MRA are recruiting every day, bringing more betas and humans from overseas. When the Brotherhood loses a soldier, they can't be replaced. Please do not tell anybody else what I've told you, Charles. I don't wish to alarm them. Promise me, Charles, that if anything were to happen to me, you and Hank won't be separated."

"Yes. Yes, of course."

Raven gave him a smile, one that reached her eyes. "You were always one of the bravest people I know, Charles." She reached out and cradled his face between her hands and then tilted his head down to kiss his forehead. This was the moment, the chance for her to say the three little words that Charles had been longing to hear for so long. His heart swooped, aching and wishing.

But the moment passed and the sound of the carriage drawing outside pulled Raven away from him. "I'm going now, Charles. Goodbye." And then she was walking towards the door, her hand poised on the doorknob and she gave him one last glance filled with a desperate sort of despair for she knew she was returning to a war that the Brotherhood simply could not win.

Charles quickly crossed the several steps that separated them, and clutched at the sleeve of her coat. "Raven. Raven please, kiss me goodbye."

Raven took her hand off the door and then held Charles closely, her hands twin spots of warmth at the small of his back. And then their lips were brushing close, a gently pressure that was not enough, never enough. Charles ran his hands up the back of her uniform and clutched at the fabric, leaning up and pressing his body against hers in the hopes for something more.

Until Raven tensed and he was being pushed away, her hands finding their way onto Charles' forearms. "Oh Charles, no. We cannot."

"But Raven, I love you. I have always loved you in a way that I will never love anybody else. I never meant to get married to Bobby and what I said earlier about doing anything for you was absolutely true. Why I would-"

"Stop. Please." At her words, Charles finally let go and Raven moved his hands down and away. A myriad of different facial expressions were flashing over her face: elation and joy mixing with something like shame.

"Raven!"

"Goodbye." She quickly turned her back to him. The door opened with barely a squeak, letting in a cool breeze swirling around his feet. She fled through it and jogged down the garden path until he disappeared inside the depths of the carriage, the last thing Charles saw being the jaunty wave of the red scarf he had made her.

 

Erik returned several months later, just as the Brotherhood was losing more and more territory. The weather hadn't been on the Brotherhood's side and nearly all the supply lines in the West were being controlled by the MRA. They were advancing quicker than the Brotherhood had anticipated and it was estimated that they would be in New London in a matter of weeks, not months.

Westchester and the farms around it couldn't keep up with the demands of feeding just about everyone. If only it were possible for Sharon Xavier to get to the bigger markets, say Epping or Castle Hill, but with the MRA advancing she had no possible way to sell off any surplus stock. Thankfully, she wasn't having as many issues about feeding the family as some of the cotton growers were, for the Xaviers had always made an honest living - not as much as the cotton growers and their empire built on the boom of the textile industry - but they had done well for themselves even despite the war.

Charles wasn't surprised to find Erik had returned to take advantage of the blockade growing tighter and tighter. He was still the most successful blockade runner and even though there had been much public outcry about him reappearing in New London from Mrs. Worthington and by extension everyone she influenced, there was no denying that he was a sight for sore eyes when food and clothing became scarcer with prices continued to rise. It was his last stock however, for Erik had sold off his small fleet of boats just before the MRA made it damn near impossible to get anything into Genosha.

To keep spirits up, Erik took Charles to one of the shadier establishments in New London to show him what some of the alphas, mostly those related to the wealthy that could afford to not fight in the war, that weren't fighting were getting up to. Underground rings had formed and these gatherings were often frowned upon. But Charles, curious as he had been, had gone along with Erik's promise that he would return in one piece.

Charles wasn't entirely certain of it once inside the den, where the cloying scent of sweat and musk filled the air. The crushing crowds certainly did not help for Charles was plastered against Erik's side all night, an action that Erik seemed rather pleased by and he kept a possessive arm around Charles' waist. The entire night seemed to happen in a blur and often Erik had to bend down in order to explain one wrestling technique or another, so close that Charles could not mistake the clean and alluring alpha scent rolling of Erik in waves.

And during the night, if Erik had to venture back to the bar to get their drinks refilled, he kept a light hand around Charles' wrist for fear of losing him amongst the crowd. Charles had to admit it was all very exciting, although outwardly he decidedly stated it was all very barbaric, even if he was indulging in his rebel side; there wouldn't be any Mrs. Worthington or Mrs. Pryde or Mrs. Braddock to tsk and make snide comments about Erik's lineage.

 

Everything was going fine. Even despite all the territory that the MRA was making, New London was still growing and living. The railways were still functioning and the people that resided there were still happy.

There was plenty of work to be done and Charles went to the hospital day in and day out. Erik still dutifully picked him up everyday and Charles would always invite him inside for a game or two of chess. Hank was always glad to have visitors, especially if it was Erik, and Aunt Letty had long since learned to spend her afternoons elsewhere for it was easier to deny any knowledge of having Erik inside her house when she wasn't physically there.

More often that not, Erik would leave just before Aunt Letty would arrive. Hank was always amused by how well timed their departure and arrival times were and Charles always feigned innocence when asked about it. To which Hank would always laugh and pronounce Charles to be 'wickedly clever'.

The injured were coming back on the trains in droves now and Charles runs himself ragged for days on end. He falls asleep more often on Erik's shoulder and once, embarrassingly, he had fallen so deeply into sleep that Erik had to carry him inside. Hank had gleefully told him afterwards in the morning.

"You were so tired that you slept through supper," Hank said waving a piece of toast. His grin looked feral on his face and Charles grumpily asked Aunt Letty to pass the jam. "Now remember to behave yourself whilst Aunt Letty and I are gone for the weekend to visit Uncle Ford. You know how they get. I wish the Hospital could have spared you for I would have dearly loved to stay and not play peacemaker all weekend." Hank pulled a face and then bit into his toast.

Charles watched as Lucas loaded the last of the luggage and waved them farewell before he left the house and headed towards the hospital. Charles was grumpy throughout the entire day, something that he blamed entirely on Erik and Erik alone. How dare Erik just pick him up and carry him into the house like that? People were bound to point and jeer and make comments, speculating upon the true nature of his relationship with Erik. Raven was still out there, bravely fighting for the Brotherhood and here Erik was doing nothing but living off the wealth he had made whilst dodging the blockade.

'You're not being fair,' a small part of Charles whispered traitorously. 'What else was he going to do? Leave you in the carriage until you woke up or got Lucas to do something that he is more than physically capable of doing.' Charles stubbornly refused to think about it and worked on auto-pilot all day long, futilely trying to ignore the way his mind argued with itself over and over.

No. He really didn't want to spend the entire day debating Erik out of all people, and Charles scowled at Erik as soon as he saw him waiting outside, sharp and punctual as usual. Charles wasn't sure why he felt so irritable the entire day, but the day's surgeries and seeing Erik certainly didn't help and Charles quickly trotted across the freshly mown lawn to stick it to Erik, his index finger ready to prod Erik's chest for some indiscretion or another.

Only it didn't quite go according to plan for as soon as he got closer his heat spiked, making his knees turn to jelly. And only one reason could make them do that. Well no wonder, Charles thought with annoyance as he walked towards Erik.

Erik looked startled to find Charles' face looking the way it did, a mixture of indignant fury and recalcitrant displeasure. It was a look that Charles did not often wear. "Are you... feeling alright, Charles?" Erik could tell something was off and it didn't take much to figure out exactly what was wrong with Charles.

"Erik... Take me home. I feel-" Hot. Extremely hot as if Charles had opened the door to the oven and had gotten a face full of warm air, only sadly devoid of the delicious scent of baked goods. And instead, Charles was acutely aware of the alluring aroma that was rolling off of Erik. Had Charles been in a better state of mind, he would have been amused to recognize the panic that tinged the edges of Erik's thoughts.

He needed to shut himself inside his room until his heat went away. Somewhere safe. Somewhere where he could suffer in peace because Raven was too far away to help him through this time of need. "Please."  Before the squelch of his slick could be felt and it became embarrassing for all parties involved.

Erik nodded, agreeing with him for once and they both climbed into the buggy. Charles felt each bump and jolt keenly, each one making him whine softly and pressed himself against Erik's side, trying to seek some solace or distraction from the way Erik smelt so good.

His usual control on his telepathy was slipping and Charles gasped in pain when his shielding was stripped away, leaving him wading with the very possibility of sinking.

"-arles... We're here, Charles!" Erik's voice broke through and Charles snapped to, his eyes focusing in on Erik's. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Everything was too loud. When he had been out in Westchester, there weren't as many people crowding in for space inside his own head and he could float along thoughts like he were chasing clouds. Usually he would flit from person to person, settling in Brian's head the longest because he was the most comfortable with Charles' mutation and knew the things his eldest child required from him.

"Everything is... too loud." Charles cradled his head, trying desperately, feebly, to raise some form of shielding against him. "Can't... focus. Could you get me into the house?" His head pounded violently and Charles whimpered. What he needed was someone to buoy him through this oncoming storm.

Erik's worry was palpable, floundering as he was in his helplessness. "Do you need me to- You're not in any state to walk. I'll carry you. Would it help if you used me?" Erik scrambled out of his seat and eased Charles into his arms. The door posed no problem as Erik stroked the lock free with a tug of his gift and climbed the stairs efficiently. Professor, now so used to Erik's presence, barely blinked as he was shooed out of the room.

"You would do that for me?"

"Of course. There isn't anything that I could refuse you, Charles. You only need ask."

Charles looked up miserable from where Erik had lain him out on the bed and reached a hand out. "Lie down with me and I'll try to calm myself through... my heat." He was only beginning to realize the implications of having an alpha in such close proximity, but he was starting to lose even the baser grasp of logic and understanding as instinct began to take over. An alpha in close proximity was good, the alpha would protect him and ensure that his belly would be round at the end of nine months. It wasn't something Charles wanted but it hardly mattered when his skin began to itch as the next wave of.

Erik's thoughts were calm, clean and tinged with an undercurrent of lust. It wasn't something that Charles could fault him for, not when Erik was currently exposed to all the pheromones that his body was producing. Charles clung on nevertheless and sighed softly when the pressure from the outside world disappeared into the background noise.

Erik looked down at him critically, adjusting to the warm unfamiliar presence inside his head, and helped remove Charles' clothes from his body one piece at a time. Sweat clung to the fabric obstinately, leaving Charles but to sigh as Erik made him comfortable inside his own bed.

"Ok?" Erik asked, looking more worried than usual as he folded the rest of Charles' clothes and set them aside on the dresser.

Charles shook his head. Even as his mind was being occupied, his body thrummed for attention, confused as to why an alpha wasn't touching him and claiming him yet; he was impressed by Erik's show of restraint.

"I need you to touch me."

Erik flinched at his words. "I don't think that's a good idea." Charles watched with avid interest as Erik's mind displayed just what would happen when he had Charles' permission to do as he liked in the form of a racy picture book.

"It's an excellent idea," Charles insisted, biting his lower lip to ward off the next wave. "I don't want to become pregnant yet, but my body is attuned to you now. It wants you and if you're going to stay and help me focus, you may as well get something out of it, right?" Erik's thoughts were still a jangled mess. He was afraid of what would happen when he couldn't stop.  One small push was all Erik required as he wavered at the end of Charles' bed.

"Charles..."

"The only time you are a gentlealpha and it's now. I know you want me, Erik." Charles slowly sashayed out of the last piece of his clothing defense, spreading his legs shamelessly for Erik to see the slick that was dripping out of his ass. Erik was on him faster than a lightning strike.

"Boundaries?" Erik asked in a low growl as he buried his nose into the side of Charles' neck, breathing in deeply.

"No kissing, and- ohh, do that again- you are not to put a child inside of me."

It was far too alluring to see the change in Erik's thinking process, as he crossed off the things that Charles could and couldn't do. Erik pressed up, caging Charles in between his forearms. Their faces close enough that their noses touched.

"Is that all?"

"And get naked," Charles appended with a cheeky smile. Erik was no Raven, and he had always envisioned his first time to be with her, but Erik was here and she was not. His body took over precedence.

Erik needn't be told twice and soon Charles was arching up against Erik's body - which was a very lovely body, all muscular and long alpha lines. He was having a difficult time imagining why Erik was happy being unwed.

"No wonder all the young omegafolk threw themselves at you," Charles marvelled as he ran his fingers and palms curiously over and down Erik's torso until they rested on Erik's hips. And, oh, Erik was clearly hung like a horse, Charles thought as he stared.

"I wasn't interested in them," Erik admitted and leaned down to suck a mark into the skin on the side of Charles' neck. Charles should have mentioned that Erik shouldn't leave any marks, but the sensation was strangely not unpleasant and it was something that Charles could get used to.

Erik took his time exploring Charles' body, savouring the time they had together to explore every nook, every crevice of his pale alabaster skin.

"Has no one done this to you?" Erik asked. Charles shook his head, watching enraptured as Erik hovered over his erection. He remembered how he had spent his last heat almost half a year ago, curiously not thinking about Raven but of Erik. It was all very confusing.

Erik looked like the devil’s incarnation and set to, swirling his tongue around the head and running the tip over the slit where Charles’ precum was gathering. No one had ever done that to him and even in his romance novels it was always the omega that was doing this to the alpha. “I could definitely get used to this”, Charles murmured to himself and tried his best not to move his hips, that proved to be futile anyway when Erik was encouraging him to do so. The heat and wet of Erik’s mouth was strange, but an altogether exquisite experience. And Erik was very good at this as Charles came when the pleasure became too much, swallowing Charles' first load with a low purr.

It was several minutes later when Erik finally spoke, his voice unusually husky. Charles felt a pang of pride run through him for having made Erik sound that way. "Do you want me to stay with you throughout your heat, or should I-"

"No. I mean yes." Charles breathes out, the rabbit quick beating of his heart having calmed down somewhat. "Aunt Letty and Hank are gone for a few days. Please... stay. I don't want to be alone."

Erik smiled, a look that was both forlorn and wistful. "You're never alone. You have me,” he said and placed a kiss onto Charles’ forehead.

 

The inside of Charles' thighs were shiny with his slick that Erik had smeared using his fingers and the palm of his hand. He was lying on his back, looking up at the ecstatic look on Erik's face as he held his legs together and pushed his thick cock in between them. His thoughts were a constant chorus of his name and Charles basked in the attention, especially the ones where Erik wanted to make Charles feel good.

And he was.

Charles was a pliant mess of limbs as Erik mouthed at his neck, leaving behind a path of kisses down to his collarbone and it made Charles gasp out loudly. His chest was a messy checkerboard of little red marks and teeth bites and Erik's back was no different, red parallel lines criss-crossing over Erik's back where fingernails had dug in.

Erik's cock slid insistently over Charles', the motions making Charles' back arch upwards. Charles had a difficult time thinking and could only communicate through a series of thoughts that urged Erik for more and faster.

"Keep your legs together for me," Erik murmured, sliding his hand up the outside of Charles' thighs. Charles did as he requested, quivering as Erik fucked between his thighs, that big cock gliding over his own. The slow motion made Charles acutely aware of the way Erik's cockhead nudged along his perineum, in-between his balls and rubbed insistently up alongside Charles' shaft until it eclipsed Charles' own; Erik was huge, Charles reflected in a mix of horror and curiosity.

Then, Erik wrapped a hand around them both and squeezed, the pressure enough to push Charles over the edge as he came apart underneath Erik with a long groan. Erik was quick to follow on his heels and grunted as he added to the mess on Charles’ belly.

Erik collapsed on top of Charles with a quiet groan, nuzzling into Charles’ belly. “Should I go?” Erik asked at length. His thoughts were hazy and radiated an intent on staying, at least until Charles could take care of himself again.

Charles wriggled a little, grumbling about how heavy Erik was, until he was comfortable underneath his Erik blanket. “No. I want you to stay.” He would ponder the implications of his words much later.

They don't talk about his heat afterwards, not even after Erik milked several more orgasms out of him. Erik stayed with him throughout his heat and for the entire duration of the weekend. They spent time in the kitchen together with Erik cooking and Charles cleaning, only it quickly escalated to Charles' pants around his knees as Erik pushed Charles' thighs together and slowly took Charles apart after a wonderful meal, growling and biting down into the soft junction between Charles' neck and shoulder to keep Charles there, not that Charles had anywhere to go with Erik's arms around him. The dishes didn't get done until much later after they thoroughly cleaned the kitchen and aired out every room.

 

Erik left the house before Hank and Aunt Letty returned with Lucas and Sean, bidding Charles farewell with a kiss to the back of his hand. It would be his secret weekend, his little secret to savour on cold lonely nights when rain fell against the window panes and the sound of thunder rolled across the sky.

What did Charles care if the MRA was gaining ground? There was still plenty of life in New London. Genosha couldn't be defeated just yet. And Erik, Erik was still being courteous, still showering him with little gifts here and there.

Of course, his elation was short lived when Hank told him, his face filled with timid pride told Charles the great news: he was expecting.

"I wasn't sure, but Dr. Darwin told me I'm about three months along. It was hard to tell since my fur makes the usual signs difficult to see," Hank explained. "But I have always wanted children and now I have one of my very own growing inside of me. Oh Charles, isn't this wonderful and exciting? It would be nice to hear the sound of children laughing to liven up the place."

A child, Raven's child, was growing inside of Hank. Charles' fingers paused where they had been combing through Professor's fur. Hank was seated upon the couch with a small smile on his face.

"Oh! Congratulations Hank," Charles said earnestly, trying not to feel like his heart was breaking into pieces. He was still living in denial, but here was the proof. That Raven might not be in love with him as he had initially hoped."I am-- I'm happy for you."

"Thank you, Charles!  I know this must have come as a bit of a shock to you. This is such wonderful news that I just had to tell you as soon as I found out. These last few months I thought I was just getting a little chubbier, but it was in fact something even better! How do you suppose I should tell Raven? What should I even write? Should I even write at all?"

"Of course you should! Can you imagine how pleased she would be to know?"

Hank smiled and sprung to his feet, heading over to get a piece of parchment. "You are right as always, Charles. I'm going to tell her everything."

"It would give her something else to fight for, another reason to live," Charles agreed, returning to his favourite past time of grooming Professor until Erik called upon them and demanded yet another game of chess from him. Professor climbed out of Charles' lap and walked sedately to bark at the door when Erik arrived just on time to do as Charles predicted.

 

The good atmosphere changed suddenly when they received a telegram the morning later proclaiming Raven to be missing in action for almost a week now after a reconnaissance mission gone awry.

Aunt Letty took the news the hardest and locked herself into her room for a good few days. Hank was silent the entire carriage ride home and Charles was desperately trying to keep it all together.

Charles sat down on the couch and told himself to breathe. Raven. Raven couldn't possibly be dead. It was impossible. No. She was only missing. She wasn't dead. Hank climbed in to sit as close to Charles as possible, seeking comfort from him as he cried openly into Charles' shoulder. He was shaking like a leaf and his large golden eyes were as wide as tea saucers.

"It's going to be alright," Charles whispered as he held Hank within his arms, tucking Hank underneath his chin and making soothing shushing noises. "They haven't found her body yet. We have to keep reminding ourselves that nothing is confirmed until that happens."

"At least," Hank said in between sobs that caused his entire body to shake, "at least I am bearing her child."

 

 

 

 

* * *

  
_"Keep your legs together for me," Erik murmured, sliding his hand up the outside of Charles' thighs. Charles did as he requested, quivering as Erik fucked between his thighs, that big cock gliding over his own. The slow motion made Charles acutely aware of the way Erik's cockhead nudged along his perineum, in-between his balls and rubbed insistently up alongside Charles' shaft until it eclipsed Charles' own; Erik was huge, Charles reflected in a mix of horror and curiosity._


	4. Chapter 4

Hank was beside himself with grief. He spent every available minute at the telegraph office, waiting for any news of Raven. Dr. Darwin worried about Hank's body. Always in constant correspondence with Raven's commanding officer with telegraphs that were filled with words that were regretful and sympathetic, Hank spent hours scouring the reports for any sign of Raven's name whether it appeared on the 'Missing-Believed Killed' or the 'Missing-Believed Captured' lists. There would be some semblance of closure.

Charles went to the hospital every day, his stomach in knots. It would be a relief to find Raven amongst his patients for the day. That would mean Raven would be alive and they would know where she was.

He was disappointed to find that Erik wasn't there to pick him up at the end of his shift. Only to find out that Hank had collapsed at the telegraph office, feeling particularly sick as his pregnancy progressed and thankfully Lucas had been instructed by Aunt Letty on very strict orders to make sure Hank doesn't leave his line of sight. Except Lucas was now getting on in years and Hank was a little bigger and heavier than he was on average. Thankfully, Erik had been walking by and helped ferry Hank inside the carriage, going so far as to carrying Hank into the house and up the stairs into his bedroom when they had arrived.

"Mr. Darkholme," Erik said gravely. "You are having a baby soon, correct?"

Hank whined softly as he tried to make himself look smaller underneath the blankets as the rest of the household ran about like headless chickens looking for some item or another. It wasn't the first time someone had gently reminded him of his condition. The omegafolk that Hank often talked to always made him feel embarrassed, as they tended to coo and twitter. Charles and Dr. Darwin were thankfully more clinical, but it still took him out of his comfort zone to have either of the good doctors inspecting him. And now, for a gentlealpha such as Erik to ask him about his state, it made Hank blush furiously. If he were feeling better state and not verging on the cusp of exhaustion, perhaps he would have said he was fine. What must Erik Lehnsherr think of him now?

"You must take better care of yourself, Mr. Darkholme," Erik said, his voice gentling unlike the rebuff that Hank had been expecting. "You have to think about the little one as well and get plenty of rest. If you will allow it, I will find out all that I can. If I find anything concrete about Mrs. Darkholme's disappearance, you will be the first to know. If she has indeed been taken as prisoner, then her name will appear on their lists. Nothing is as terrible as the unknown and you will worry yourself to death. And we can't have that, can we? I will do this only on one condition, and that is you take care of yourself and listen to what the doctors tell you. No more running around and waiting at the telegraph office for any scrap of information, you hear?"

"You would do that for me?"Hank asked, hope glimmering in his eyes. "Then yes, please. I promise. You are far too kind, Captain Lehnsherr. How could anyone say such horrid things about you?" His emotions overcame him and Hank started to cry softly, his entire body flushed with shame at the tactless manner in which he asked this favour from the good Captain. Charles, rushing up the stairs with a warm wheatbag, found Erik holding Hank's paw and calmly patting the back of his hand. Charles arranged the wheatbag for optimal comfort and clinically began to check Hank's pulse, all the while knowing Erik was curiously watching him do so. They stayed until Hank fell asleep and then Erik bade Charles a good night, kissing his forehead gently in farewell before slinking away into the night. Charles wasn't quite sure what to make of the kiss.

Erik returned three weeks later with news. Raven was not dead as they had feared, but wounded and had been taken prisoner by the MRA. She was being held in a prisoner camp out past Castle Rock. Although initially filled with elation for finding Raven alive, that feeling had quickly turned to dread, for Castle Rock was a place of where only the most hardy of prisoners could survive, in a place where the temperatures and sickness ran rampant. It had been rumoured that only a quarter of the prisoners sent in would make it out alive for the conditions at Castle Rock were barbaric.

The Brotherhood tolerated no prisoner exchanges and it was impossible to know if Raven, wounded as she was, had succumbed and died in the meantime. The probability was not stacked in her favour and the only thing they could do was hope for her safe return.

The fighting crept continuously closer to New London and then rumours began to spread about how soon it would be until the MRA would be flooding the streets as they knew it. Erik mused over a glass of apple cider that the MRA had been preparing for months already in severing the arteries, the four major railroads that fuelled the Brotherhood forces. Charles could see how pragmatic it would be, despite not liking the bad aftertaste it left in his mouth.

"They are splitting the Brotherhood's forces thin. Supplies are already running low and we can't afford to defend everything," Erik commented offhand as he twirled a bishop in between his long fingers. "Only these fools are too blind to see how the attacks up at Cheltenham will affect us. Of course the Brotherhood would want to defend New London as best as it can, but it's inevitable that the MRA runs through the town. And in between the Cheltenham and New London are all the factories and mills and storehouses."

Charles sighed as he rubbed the heel of his palm over his eye. He still despised talk of the war, but these days talk always revolved around the topic. Conversations were directed away from war but would invariably return to war-related: war weddings, deaths at the hospital, the latest patients that had been brought in, stories from the front, war romances, incidents, honour, cowardice, gallantry, the dwindling supplies, and hope. The New Londoners always clung to that small sliver of hope.

But when it was just private conversations between Erik and himself, Charles had begun to see the clearer picture: that there was nothing the Brotherhood could do to stop the oncoming onslaught by the MRA.

"Once upon a time, I had believed that perhaps the Brotherhood stood a chance against the MRA," Erik confessed as he set the bishop down and looked across the chessboard at Charles. The fire crackled in the hearth, causing Erik's usual steely blue-grey eyes to dance in a mesmerising manner. "Now, we are but merely sitting ducks."

Charles shivered. "Must you be so vulgar? I am hardly poultry material. Let us speak of something else."

The corner of Erik's mouth twitched upwards, mocking laughter shining in his eyes, but he acquiesced easily.

 

A week later, the MRA had gained ground attacking at Ryde, a little town that stood little chance of defending against the advancing MRA troops. The railroad was undoubtedly on the MRA's agenda, but for now the Brotherhood was defending to the best of their capabilities despite the MRA's attack from both sides.

Until the Brotherhood sounded a retreat, a move that may perhaps be their smartest yet Erik said. There hadn't been any casualties and few alphas lost their lives when compared to the toll laid upon the MRA's forces. It was worrisome how close they were coming now towards New London and people were beginning to prepare for the oncoming tide of refugees seeking shelter. Omegafolk and alphafolk alike, the human and beta servingfolk that stayed faithfully with their families, the young and the old, hopping from town to town to town clutching to the hope that perhaps there would be news of the Brotherhood retaliating and they could retrace their steps home. But that news never came and the group of refugees grew larger and larger as the Brotherhood continued to retreat.

New London was swamped with more injured alphas than they could cope with. The hospitals there were already filled to capacity and often the next best thing for the wounded was the floor of empty stores and abandoned houses. The injured never stopped flowing into New London, to the point where the hospitals couldn't take any more and they had to be placed on the trains and diverted further to Marsfield and Chatswood.

Aunt Letty complained about the strange alphas that filled her home, that the gruesome injuries would not do for Hank's delicate constitution. Hank ignored her words however and carefully adjusted his vest and fur to cover up his growing middle. Each of the rooms would be filled and Charles was run ragged between working at the hospitals and helping out at home, especially with Hank slowly becoming rounder and rounder. Food was always being cooked, despite the horrible rationing, there was always things to be lifted or pushed or placed somewhere. The only saving grace at night was Charles' ability to knock out all the injured soldiers and allow everyone to have an undisturbed sleep to recover from the day's exhaustion.

Charles watched with grim satisfaction as the residents of New London slowly became aware of the dire situation. Faith in General Farouk had faded away into nothing.  The Home Guard could not stand any possible chance of holding back the oncoming of MRA troops. What could he be thinking?

Alex and Gabe Summers along with their human escort Oliver came to visit Charles at the most opportune time, bringing with them some of the apple stocks from Westchester. Charles' room had long since given up his bedroom to allow more wounded to be housed in Aunt Letty's house and with the arrival of the Summer brothers, the floor of Hank's room was becoming far too crowded. Their help was greatly appreciated and Charles spent longer and longer hours at the hospital, overworking his telepathy in a way that always let him with a pounding headache at the end of the day.

He was desensitized already from the many hours he had spent dressing wounds, sewing up lacerations, performing amputations and an assortment of operations. Charles' skills were in high demand and although there were still balls and bazaars held here and there, between Erik's presence or lack thereof, Hank's frail state and Aunt Letty's deliriums, the Summer brothers helping hands came at the best of times.

The pungent smells and gruesome sights of the hospital no longer fazed Charles. He wasn't some young omega who would faint at the sight of lice, infected lacerations, or the oozy fluids of different colours. It was hard work and Charles' backbone had toughened up in accordance. He still longed for the comfort of his room back at Westchester and to be surrounded by the fragrant scent of apples all year round, but Charles wasn't one to give up on anything and he had taken this as his sole mission. People were suffering and if Charles had the ability to save them then he would do his utmost.

The days were hot and the wards were filled with moaning soldiers. The rooms were buzzing, humming with the sound of flies that annoyed and provided a constant background droning and it drove all the wounded insane; Little Mortimer Toynbee could only catch so many before another three took its place. Charles was constantly on his feet and was only afforded a little break time for lunch, nibbling on his cornbread and drinking a poor excuse for tea.

A shadow fell over him and Charles looked up, squinting and recognising Erik Lehnsherr's horrid smirking face. "You look terrible," Erik said by way of greeting and then sat next to Charles without an invitation, not even minding that Charles' sleeves that were rolled up to his elbows were streaked with pinks and browns.

"Thanks. I feel wonderful on the inside," Charles replied sarcastically. Trust Erik to always focus on the aesthetics. He was saving people's lives and making a difference in there, and Erik was awfully rude about an omega's dress when Charles wasn't even dressed to impress. "You should take me away from here before I spend another afternoon locked up in the surgery again." Charles turned his pleading eyes on Erik, blue and hopeful.

Erik merely laughed. "And is your presence afforded elsewhere, Charles? You would become a traitor to the Great and Noble Cause?"

Charles shook his head. "Hello pot. My name's kettle. That is rich coming from a hypocrite like you. I don't care where you are going, so that shouldn't pose a problem to you right? Now are you going to walk me to your carriage and help me in, or am I going to make you?"

The sides of Erik's eyes crinkled with mirth, they both knew Charles would never, and extended a hand to help Charles get to his feet, an action that would undoubtedly have made the old married omegafolk gasp in shock and horror. Charles gratefully took it and was unsurprised when Erik didn't drop his hand.

The long line of Erik's back was broad and Charles was mesmerised by the cut of his bespoke suit. The fabric for his coat and his pants were meticulous and appeared to be cut from the same cloth, the style likely one of the new ones from France. This was an alpha who was well fed and whole, a sight that was sorely becoming difficult to find as Charles spent more time with patients at the hospital and around the house. No one would blame him if he took the afternoon off to rest.

When Erik helped Charles into his buggy, Charles got a good look at Erik's face. Erik wore a carefree expression that was difficult to find in these current times, his pale eyes sharp and alert, and his mouth, healthy red lips, was curled upwards in a sensual smile; he wasn't harsh on the eyes. And he was so much bigger physically than Charles was, his muscles rippling underneath his shirt as he hauled himself into the carriage.

This was a true alpha. Erik moved with a such easy grace that it made him seem almost like a big jungle cat, all lithe lines and alert, ready to pounce like a jaguar. Erik took up the reins and clucked his tongue at the horse.

"I suppose out of everyone in New London you do deserve the rest. Are you sure they can handle the patients without you there?" Erik asked.

"They'll manage," Charles grumbled. There were still several nurses on hand and Scott's Jean Grey had gone from shop assistant to assisting in surgeries. It would be fine. "You make it sound like you weren't looking forward to spending your entire afternoon with me. Did I put a wrench in your plans?"

"A very big wrench, but I'll just work around it," Erik said with a put-upon sigh. He lead the horse throughout much of the town, out past the railworks where the wounded were still being transferred into makeshift ambulances and wagons. Charles ignored their pained moans and turned to Erik instead.

"How noble of you. Now, if you could just take the less scenic route through town, that would be best. If only General Farouk had done a better job defending."

"You foolish little omega. And how would he have done to achieve that? The Brotherhood protected the railway from the MRA. Had he made a stand, there wouldn't be much of the Brotherhood to speak of and he would have lost the railway to the MRA."

Charles turned to give Erik a sour look. "The hospitals wouldn't be overflowing with dying alphas if he had made better decisions. I might not be well-versed in the art of war, but even a foolish little omega like me can see that."

"There will always be casualties in war. Especially now, when General Farouk cannot afford to lose any more of his soldiers since reinforcements are difficult to come by. Those that are recovering do not like the taste of war they have swallowed and only those with a sense of honour would enlist back to their old platoons, even if it means another lost limb or another. Stryker outnumbers us easily now."

Charles worried on his lower lip, paying little attention to the changing scenery. "Is General Farouk going to call in the Home's Guard as reinforcements? The militia too? Gabe Summers is barely of age!"

"It is just a rumour, but it won't be long before it becomes truth... The MRA are advancing closer and closer to New London. I expect some of the Home Guard will be surprised to find that they are required to take up arms. Who would have thought it would get so close as our front lawn that they would see action?"

"Why must there be fighting? War never solved anything. How cruel it would be to send the young and the old alphafolk to their deaths!"

"But then there are those alphas who young and naive who wear their uniforms proudly and never expected to lift up arms--"

Charles turned to Erik for a moment, demanding an answer. "And what of yourself?"

Erik in turn raised an eyebrow, one of his fond smirks on his face. "I thought we had been through this. I am loyal to no one but myself. I am done with anything militia and it would be stupid to be a part of the Home Guard, especially not in a scenario like this. Of course, they deserve better reinforcements, but the Brotherhood's numbers were small before we even began. Arrogance and not enough preparation has lead to this point. To protect the railroad, the only thing they can do now is to keep retreating."

"But you know as well as everyone does that the MRA would never get as far as MRA!"

"Is that your foolish hopes speaking, Charles? They're advancing at a pace far too quickly than--"

Charles cut him off before Erik could give him another lecture with a hand on his forearm. "Why are there so many... betas? Why are they gathered over there? Do you know, Erik?" Erik pulled guided the horse and carriage towards the curb and looked on curiously, his shoulders held alert . They were all betas, shovels and pickaxes held loftily over their shoulders, all of them marching, shuffling, in a long procession towards them, a low humming song being sung in a variety of tenor and bass voices.

Then, Charles spotted someone chewing a rolled up poor man's cigar at the head of the procession that looked very familiar. He wasn't particularly tall, shorter than Charles himself was, but the beta commanded attention like it was his birthright. It was Logan, the foreman of Westchester and Sharon's right hand. But why he was present in New London baffled him, especially when Sharon had come to rely upon Logan when keeping the rest of the workers in line.

Logan must have caught scent of him for his head was up in the air and his face split into a massive grin. He elbowed the betas next to him - Charles recognized one as his brothers, Dog and Victor - and they dropped their shovels to run across the street with gigantic grins on their faces, the marshall from the engineering corp not far behind them yelling on horseback for them to get back into position. There was mass confusion as the lines broke, halting awkwardly and staring at one another but most were entertained at the sight of the three muscular betas yelling and yipping like young boys.

"It's Young Master Xavier!"

"Get back here you snivelling boys- Oh, Mr. Drake. Good afternoon, and to you also, sir."

Erik nodded and added with a wry chuckle, "Nothing like the scent of insubordination in the afternoon."

"Oh, please don't get mad at them, Captain Murdock," Charles implored, widening his eyes just a touch to make them look even more irresistible. "They are ours. And it has just been far too long since I last saw them and I am just as pleased to see them. See, this is Dog and Victor and of course our foreman Logan." He turned back to the boys. "How have you been boys?"

Charles reached out and smiled as his hands were clasped in between their huge tanned paws, each of them sparkling with pride as they showed the rest of the line just how beautiful their Young Master had been. They chorused that they had been well, bickering with one another as the brothers often do.

"But, why have you boys been corralled by the good Captain here?" Charles asked, a frown on his face as he turned to.

"We've gotta go dig some mighty fine trenches, bub," Logan drawled, his chest puffing out. "I was especially asked for by Sebastian Shaw when he came around to ask on behalf of the cause. Sharon wasn't so pleased to find us gone, but Brian talked some sense into her. He even gave us some money to ease our travel."

"But that still doesn't tell me why?"

"Well," Captain Murdock cleared his throat, "Fortifications are required and there isn't anyone else but the servingfolk to dig the trenches by hand."

"What do you mean? Why do we require extra fortification?"

"One thinks the current arrangement is already far too close to the town than folks are comfortable with. We have plans are to have them a little further away in case.  Further retreats are likely to bring our soldier alphafolk into New London. Not there would be another retreat, so don't go worrying your pretty head about it," Captain Murdock said, although he quickly dropped his gaze underneath the calm and steady scrutiny Erik Lehnsherr gave him.

Charles frowned. Instead of having so many servingfolk dedicate so much of their time into doing something completely meagre, it might be possible to have it done in half the time. "Have you... considered asking the Summer brothers? They could have these trenches done quick smart." Charles wisely does not mention that Alex was starting to fray at the edges, impatient to let out some steam. This sounded like the perfect outlet.

"I would never ask--"

"If not now, then when? Come swing past the house and pick them up. Anything for the Cause correct?"

"Well," the Captain hesitated, before begrudgingly agreeing. "I suppose. I shall get these boys set to work first, and then see about asking, um..., have a good day. Say farewell, boys, and then we'll best be off."

Charles smiled fondly at them before informing the Captain of his address, and he sat back watching as the line reformed and the servingfolk marched onward. As soon as they were gone, Charles turned to Erik with a frown upon his face.

"I don't like being lied to, and that Captain Murdock is a fool for thinking he could lie in between his teeth. Does he think I am just like any of those other foolish omegas who would faint at the mere mention of blood? I'm a doctor," Charles grumbled. "And extra fortifications! What is the General thinking?"

Erik flicked the reins and clucked to his horse. "Well, it's better to be prepared than to be caught unaware in case we end up being seiged by the MRA. I suppose the General is prepared to make a stand here in case everything goes to hell in a handbasket."

"A seige?" Charles exclaimed. "I've heard about them. I'm fairly certain that Ma participated in one back in the day, or perhaps it was her Pa, and--"

Erik let out a bark of laughter. "And what seige are we talking about?"

"The seige on Chateau Gaillard! Ma told me all about it. It began when the King of France wanted the Chateau and it was only after eight months; he was victorious. And it was all very horrible because the people back then were so barbaric; they ate cockroaches. Ma even told me that they even turned to one another and started eating one another when food became too scarce and then- A seige, Erik! Can you believe it?"

At that point, Erik was outright laughing at him. "Honestly, Charles. Really? I'm certain that the seige you're talking about took place in twelve hundred and something, and unless Mrs. Xavier has a mutation of that very nature, I'm positive she couldn't have been alive then."

"But, it's worse, Erik!"

"I imagine they may have had to survive on some frankly surprising but nutritious things back in those days. I imagine it may be better than what they are serving me at the hotel these days, now that I think about it. Perhaps I should return to Chatswood. They'd serve actual food to those that could afford it." Erik grinned with all of his teeth on full display.

Charles huffed at him, omega manners be damned. "I don't even know why you're still here.  All you care about is looking good and eating and... and other such things of that manner!"

"You make that sound like it is a horrible way to pass the time. Nothing like fine dining and being comfortable and er-- things of that manner." What Charles hoped to do to wipe that grin right off his face. "As to why I am still here, being a noncombatant has its perks. For instance, I am well read about history. I have read much upon what a beseiged city looks like, and you could say I am curious enough to stay and observe for myself. It would be an interesting new experience, and one should always strive to enrich the mind."

Charles glared. "I'm a telepath. You can do the enriching for the both of us."

"Yes, well. I suppose you are the better judge of your own self. Although I have one or two things to say about-- no, that would be far too impolite to do so." Charles gave a rather undignified snort at that. "And perhaps, I have stayed behind so I can be your knight in shining armour. I've never rescued a damsel in distress before so that would be a wonderful new experience too."

Charles couldn't help but think that Erik was being serious and sniffed. "I am not a damsel and nor am I in any sort of distress."

"Charles! You wound me so," Erik said with a degree of theatrics that made Charles chuckle. "Never ever say that in front of an alpha, especially when they are trying to do a brave and valiant thing. That's the problem with young omegafolk these days, charming and sweet when you want something if they aren't declaring that they can take care of themselves."

Charles glared. "Must you be so dramatic, Erik? I'm confident that the MRA won't make it into New London by the end of the month. Not then, not now, not ever."

"Oh?" Erik asked. "Shall we put a wager on that?"

"What are your terms, you rogue?"

"How about... a box of the finest bonbons I can find against--" And then Erik's eyes roam down to Charles' red lips. "A kiss."

Charles paused, his heart seizing in his chest. There had been plenty of impersonal kisses between them ever since that time, but they were touches that one would expect between family and close friends. And Erik hadn't made any more advances ever since that time, and no matter how hard Charles tried to pry, Erik continued to remain very close lipped about his personal matters. And now, Erik was speaking of kissing?

"I'd sooner kiss my dog," Charles hissed, managing the right amount of affront.

Erik shrugged, unfazed. "I'm not going to question why you would be partial to kissing your dog. But Charles, you are still young and you need kissing rather badly. All of your suitors have been much too intimidated by you and that is why you are far too arrogant. The only way to fix this is, of course, for you to be kissed and be kissed properly by someone who knows how."

"Oh? And you fancy yourself someone that is well-versed on that front?" Charles asked coolly, trying to redirect the conversation in his favour. It usually never worked for Erik was obstinate and often Charles had to concede and go with the flow.

"That's what they say.  I suppose I could muster up the energy to do right by you, for the greater good." Erik was smiling at him, as he often does. But Charles was staggered for a moment by how vulnerable his eyes looked. For a fleeting moment anyway.

"And I suppose you are often wondering why I never asked why, or pursued something more in between the kisses I give to your forehead and your cheek."

"Not at all-"

"Tsk, Charles. I think we have established how you are not a very nice omega. You secretly wish that all your alpha suitors would try but pretend that you don't want them to. Some day, Charles, I will kiss you and kiss you properly, and you will like it and beg for another. But not now, not today. One day when you least expect it."

Charles scowled, but could not find the appropriate words to rebut such a fierce statement. "Take me back to the hospital, Captain Lehnsherr."

"The sight of dying alphas is preferable to my conversation? You do hurt me so, Charles. Well, I suppose they could use someone of your considerable doctoring talent. Far be it for me to stand in the way of them living or dying."

"You never did tell me why you haven't kissed me proper yet."

"Well, you expressly told me no kisses during your heat. Did you think I would forget so easily? And I have made it a personal vow of mine to not kiss you until you are older."

Charles rolled his eyes, his cheeks flaring up in embarrassment. "One would think that... that would surpass something childish like kissing."

"Especially when it comes to living in Raven Darkholme's shadow," Erik muses quietly. "And what do you surmise I have gathered about your schoolboy crush on her? Why, it is as unrequited as the esteemed Mrs. Darkholme will allow it to go. Mr. Darkholme does not suspect a thing, which is considerably difficult to do considering how clever Mr. Darkholme is but perhaps he is a little unobservant, or just doesn't know what to look for. Perhaps congratulations are in order for how well the pair of you have duped her."

"Why are you telling me this?" Charles asked through gritted teeth.

"There is just one thing that I am curious about," Erik replied, nonchalant. "Has the honourable Raven Darkholme that you hold so dear to your heart ever kiss you and--"

Charles seethed in his seat, refusing to answer the question.

"-- I'm unsurprised by this revelation. I imagine it was during her furlough? Hmm. I imagine you replay that moment over and over again in your head now that Raven's fate has been sealed."

"Why are you being so vicious, Captain Lehnsherr?"

Erik shrugged. "Well. You'll get over her kiss sooner or later. And then I shall-"

"I demand you stop the carriage now and I'll walk the rest of the way." Erik pulled the carriage to the curb and Charles sprung out before Erik could alight and help Charles step down.

Several steps away from the carriage, Charles turned around and yelled, "You are insufferable!" before he flounced away.

 

Everyday, the sound of cannon fire got louder and louder as the MRA advanced forward step by step. It startled the population and New Londoners all had a perpetual look of apprehension, as they strained their ears to hear the next boom.  Underneath the imposed calm was a layer of tension, of panic that was barely bridled. The topic of retreating and anything related to fears were now strictly taboo.

The Home Guard had been deployed a month ago, some of them unarmed except for their powers for the Brotherhood had no more arms to give out, let alone spare ammunition. The plan had been for them to equip themselves with the MRA's weapons as they fell. Of those old enough to remember the old war by the Gulf, they armed themselves with old service pistols and flintlock revolvers.  More often than not, the Home Guard were armed with knives, khukris and machetes from home. There had been plenty of people Charles recognized, had grown up with and they were all being sent for the sake of the cause. Ramsay Darkholme had ridden past, pausing to kiss Charles' cheeks and wistfully saying he would have had liked to see his first grandchild. The reinforcements were as Erik had described, lacklustre and sent as cannon fodder like cattle to slaughter had they any cattle. Charles had felt his heart ache for all those he would never see again.

Stryker was a clever man, and recognizing his losses would continue if he continued to attack where the Brotherhood's defenses were strongest, sent his troops in a wide arc so eager he was to take New London for his own. The terrain worked to his advantage, for there were flat plains that were difficult to defend against his attacks and pressed forward. He captured the town to the west of New London, a little sleepy place called Eastwood, until the forces were at New London's doorsteps.

It was mid-morning when the first signs of the wounded limped past Aunt Letty's house. Some in groups, others by themselves, stragglers and supporting the wounded until it was a steady stream that was walking past, all of them headed in the direction of the hospitals. None of them had any bandages around their wounds and the blood had congealed and dried in dark messes.

"Water, water please!"

They spent the entire day watering the injured and Charles took care of all the superficial wounds, directing those with more grievous injuries to the hospital with post haste.  Aunt Letty worked diligently for the entirety with a concentration that surprised and impressed Charles, for the Aunt Letty that was so prone to fainting spells was not to be seen. Hank, now huge, had done his best to assist Charles, Sean, and Lucas. The wounded flooded inside the house, moaning and groaning and taking what little reprieve that they could from the little house with the red roof.

By nightfall, the ambulances and wagons began to roll into the town. Charles pushed his way to the front of the crowd, effortlessly picking out the news he required from the minds of the many. Uncertainty hung thick in the air as he passed water out with his ladle. The night air was stifling and Charles had done his best to tend to those that had the higher chance of surviving to see another day.

His white shirt and his modest forest green waistcoat was streaked with blood and dirt clung to the fabric. He was sweaty and wished that the horrid war would just end already. He stood upon the green grass and looked up towards the sky.

He had become well accustomed to death and this was no different. This was expected and the norm now. Each of the faces bloody and bruised that filled Aunt Letty's house were people Charles knew well. They were people he had seen at the store, had talked to at the library, had danced with at one of the balls. These alphafolk were someone's son, someone's daughter, someone's lover, someone's father, someone's mother.

There were men piled up high in the carts, some Charles knew and others too mangled to identify. Most were likely dead before they reached the hospital.

Charles heard someone strike up a heart breaking rendition of 'The Brotherhood Blues' inside the house. His heart squeezed as someone moaned painfully. Hank had been expressly told to stay off his feet. It looked like the beginning of a string of very long nights ahead.

 

There was little time for celebration, but New London gave them a heroes welcome regardless. The fear was palpable now and there was no time to prepare adequate defenses before the MRA was upon them and upon them fast. The brave faces the townspeople had shown their retreating soldiers was a thing of the past. The false cheer that had been forced upon bright faces, straining at the seams like a bubble had finally burst when the MRA was within shelling distance. The damage was great to the MRA forces but they could afford the tragic losses for they now controlled three of the four main railroads that ran into New London.

The last one remaining, Charles knew would determine whether the Brotherhood would smell victory or suffer at the hands of the MRA. The omegafolk had all been urged to go seek refuge elsewhere. Perhaps at relatives that would take them elsewhere safe and far away from the destructive powers of the artillery. And so trunks were packed and sent along the last trains; Aunt Letty being one of them.  Charles didn't fault her for leaving for he too longed for the safety of Westchester. He was however annoyed that Aunt Letty hadn’t tried harder to convince Hank to go with her.

Hank who was expected to give birth at any moment now. New London was hardly the place to deliver a baby safely. But Hank had given a large outcry: "Please don't leave me, Charles.  I could not bear it  if you left for Westchester and left me to go live with Aunt Letty and Grandma Linda. Raven told me that she would ask you to take care of me. And you promised her, did you not?"

Charles sighed softly and nodded. "We shall go stay at Westchester together then. I did promise her and I never go back on my word. But you must go, Hank. You are hardly in the

right place. It's dangerous for you to stay. Think of the child."

Dr. Namor, just arrived to help out with the sick in Aunt Letty's house, puffed for breath. He was notorious for eavesdropping and  quickly deemed travel unsafe for Hank, especially with how far along he was.  It could prove harmful to the baby.

"But he can't stay here, not with all the cannon fire," Charles argued, frowning. He had never liked Dr. Namor much, especially not in this moment when the old windbag was asserting his years of experience over common sense.  Oh, if only he knew of a teleporter!

Dr. Namor pressed on, "And more so,  for the trains that lead to Westchester could be captured by the MRA and there are no longer any doctors left, not since Dr. Darwin left with the Home Guard to help out on the frontlines. But he would agree with me on this matter, of that I am certain."

Hank was unconvinced on the matter. “But there will be midwives and I'll have Charles.”

“Charles is not a properly trained doctor. And you know as well as I do that births by male omegas are notably more difficult. You need a doctor. Now, you must go back upstairs and rest. And I want you to stay there even if the ceiling collapses, not that it will. There's a good lad.”

Dr. Namor drew Charles away and spoke frankly. "I know you are a very clever omega, not at all flighty like the rest of them. Hank is delicate and must remain here in New London until he is due. He shouldn't even be having children in such a state. Tall and far too thin with narrow hips makes fire - a very difficult birth. I want you to come to me as soon as possible when the time comes. None of the servingfolk are equipped for this. And for that I require you to stay here and help assist the birth. No more talk of returning to Westchester you hear me. There's a brave chap."

Charles put on a brave face, for he had made that promise to Raven, and pressed forward. The baby could come at any moment.

 

The shelling continued. The siege was barely begun and Sean had been banished to say anything for the time being. The younger beta instead clutched Hank's fur in his hands, white knuckles showing. Charles had done his best to board up any of the windows for fear of the glass shattering. The Xaviers wrote numerous letters begging Charles to return, and Charles yearned to do so, to get away from the oncoming danger, but wrote back regretful that he was required to stay here and look after Hank.

He knew how many had taken to looking up to him for encouragement and had taken to soothing them as well as he possibly could with his brave mask. On the inside, Charles was not at all enthused by the rumbling in the earth. The sound of explosions still made Charles jolt, but it didn't send him looking for the comfort of his bed; there was only so much protection and comfort he could claim from his blankets.

Erik had taken to strolling through the streets, throwing back any cannonballs before they could split into a mass of iron splinters or blowing animals and people apart. Charles only heard tales of it from whispers and rumours from his peers after the fact, but wagered between all of the mutants still living in New London, it would be far too little too late.

Bad news came when Charles overheard the talk from the alphafolk: the MRA were sweeping in and fast for the last major railroad. If they took that, it would spell the end for New London.  All of the roads except one were lined to the teeth with the MRA forces and the alphafolk spoke of probabilities and inevitabilities. Charles didn't stay long to listen to the rest. Westchester and his family lay close to that very railroad!

Charles lay in bed that night, straining the very range of his telepathy in the faint hopes that he would be able to catch his sisters' flighty thoughts, or the steadfast calm that his father exuded or even the drunken murmurings of his mother. The fighting would take place far from Westchester, but whether it would be on the right side of the MRA or not stilled remained to be seen. And both Anna-Marie and Angel were still young, they wouldn't be able to defend Westchester or even come up with a plan quickly and choose the right solution. Oh, Charles wished he was back home for the fear was gnawing at the edges of his heart.

A letter came three days later from Brian, reassuring Charles that they were alright for the most part. The MRA hadn't reached Westchester, although the sound of explosions frightened the girls completely. Charles gasped when he read that Angel had fallen ill with typhoid fever, although it was still in the early stages. Brian had expressly told Sharon to write at the end that Charles was not to come home on any account for the roads and the railroads were safe but not safe enough.

Charles wandered to sit on the porch chair at the top of the steps, tucking his bare feet underneath him as he hugged his knees. Everyone was asleep back inside the house: Sean, Gabe, Alex and Hank. He pressed his forehead against the back of his hands, closing his weary eyes. His stomach had been churning for the past few days, desperate for news from home and now Charles could finally let out a huge sigh of relief, glad to know that they lived and no harm had come to them.

His thoughts quickly directed him to days from the past, back when he was younger and would attend the variety of social events, flirting shamelessly, enticing the available gentlealpha and then leaving a trail of broken hearts. How many of those faces he would have once recognized would still be there when they picked up the shattered pieces of Genosha? Had Scott Summers survived long enough to be teased again about his crush on Miss Jean Grey? Was Raven truly dead? Nothing would ever be the same again and tears begin to gather in his eyes. Thinking about them made Charles begin to cry in earnest.

The sound of the gate clicking open brought his head up like Professor's head would have had his old and beloved dog been alive to hear the sound of his whistle. He quickly wiped his eyes with a swipe of his forearm and looked through his wet lashes to see that it was Erik Lehnsherr making his way up the garden path. Was he doing another of his rounds around town and reflecting bits of metal away again? It had been a long time since they had last spoke ever since that day when Charles had wanted to get away for an afternoon before returning diligently to the Hospital to do his duty.

He was relieved though to have someone to talk to and Erik always tried to cheer him up, something that Charles was in sore need right now. The smile on Erik's face was fond and he made himself comfortable on the step closest to Charles, sitting so close that Charles could feel the warmth coming from Erik's torso in his toes.

"You are a sight for sore eyes. I had heard the news of Aunt Letty leaving and had automatically assumed you and Hank would have followed her away from here. I came to investigate why your light was still on. Why is a pretty omega such as yourself still here?"

"I must stay for Hank's sake. He is in a rather delicate state right now and--"

Erik frowned, making the wrinkles in his forehead deepen. "Did you mean to say that Mr. Darkholme is still here? Why? That is a terrifically bad idea. It's dangerous enough as it is. But for a pregnant omega such as Mr. Darkholme? If only I were still in contact with Azazel, he would have been able to get Mr. Darkholme out." The question was rhetoric, and that had been what he had told Dr. Namor, but to no avail.

Talking about a pregnant omega to an alpha such as Erik was ridiculous, and Charles was eager to divert the conversation away. Besides, it was a topic left to professionals and not the likes of an alpha such as Erik. What would a bachelor do with the knowledge of pregnant omegas anyway?  And who was this Azazel person that Erik was talking about anyway? Probably someone up to no good if they were acquaintances with Erik. "I can see how high my wellbeing ranks on your list," Charles said sarcastically.

Erik laughed. "I am convinced you can hold yourself well enough against an entire platoon of the MRA. Why, I'd make quite a pretty penny off you if I was the betting kind."

"You are."

"I am," Erik nodded sagely.

"And I'm sure that was not a compliment."

"And it wasn't," he replied cheerfully. "Honestly, Charles. Not everything an alpha says can be construed as a compliment. Must you always? "

"Yes. Till the end of my days."

Erik tsked. "Vanity is not a good look on you, but you are forthright about it."

They settled into a long silence, broken only by the quiet sound of something twittering above them. Perhaps it was the Genoshan blue, a small little swallow sized thing, that lived in the rafters above the porch. Charles watched as Erik pulled out a cigar from its casing and lit it up with a match, the flame flicked away from existence a moment later. The scent was pleasant, heady and smelt strongly of vanilla and chocolate. It was a treat to the olfactory senses and they sat there in a companionable silence while Erik smoked.

"You know," Erik said at length, around a mouthful of smoke, "it's ironic that you stayed on behalf of Mr. Darkholme. Given your designs and the current situation."

"I haven't any idea what you're referring to."

"Oh, but I think you do. See, I had always imagined you thought him as a roadblock, someone who stood in the way of what you desired. In fact, the way you sometimes look at Mr. Darkholme, it was as if you you wished he would drop off the face of this planet, and he was someone who was beneath you. I just find it curious that you would stay here so bravely when New London is being fired upon..."

"All of that is purely speculation. Need I remind you who between us is the telepath?"

"That still doesn't tell me why."

"Contrary to popular belief, my world does not revolve around Raven," Charles said, his cheeks flushing red. And it was true. Mostly. "Hank is brilliant and he is like the younger brother that I never had. Of course I would look out for him."

"Or did you mean it was because he is Raven Darkholme's widower?"

Charles' eyes flashed in anger as he stood up and loomed over Erik with his hands on his hips. "How dare you! You come into my garden and dare insult me? I should never have allowed you to walk past the gate had I not been feeling lonely and wished for company and..."

"No, no. No need to get your hackles up. Come, sit down. Tell me, why have you been lonely." Charles allowed Erik to take his hand and then sat back down.

"I received a letter from Westchester. My adoptive little sister is sick with typhoid fever and I'm worried about everyone. The MRA are fighting so very close. I can't rely on Angel to defend everyone and Anne-Marie is as good as useless since she has to be in close contact with someone for it to work. And Father has forbidden me to return home even if I wanted to. Oh, Erik, I so dearly want to go home."

"There are people here that rely upon you, Charles, and don't you forget it. Mr. Xavier is correct. If the fighting does take place, you would be much safer here in New London than in Westchester. And there is a chance of you catching the typhoid as well. The MRA won't harm you, think about it. You are an omega of exceptional telepathic abilities and what use is that to a beta or a human? Have you been listening to the old bags talking or thinking such things?"

Charles was flabbergasted. Of course he had. They spoke of omegas being raped all of the time in hushed tones whenever they gathered together in small pockets. It wasn't like Mrs. Worthington or Mrs. Pryde or even Mrs. Braddock were yelling those words from rooftops. And it was a very legitimate concern! Charles had only ever had sex with one person, and he was talking to him at this very instance.

Erik was grinning up at him now, an amused expression on his face. How awful for an alpha to be bringing such a topic up like that. It wasn't a laughing matter at all, and who was the telepath in this relationship anyway? Charles couldn't help his feathers from ruffling again for Erik often leafed through Charles' pages like it were a book.

"Never mind that, who else is in the house? Do you have an alpha escort or an omega protector? Mrs. Pryde or perhaps Mrs. Braddock now that Mrs. Worthington has fled along with the rest? They always look right through me as if I have nefarious designs."

"And don't you?" Charles couldn't help but ask with a slight smile.

"Only some of the time, liebling."

"What does that mean? I've never heard you use that term before."

"'Liebling'? Well, I suppose it describes what you are to me. It's a term of endearment and you could say it means 'favourite' or 'darling'." Charles felt his cheeks flare up, pleased. No one had called him anything like that and it made his heart flutter.

"Mrs. Braddock usually does, but couldn't tonight. Betsy just returned with the rest of the Home Guard and is at home, resting."

If Erik's mouth could widen even further, Charles was certain it would. "And of all the days to come investigate and find you on your lonesome out here," Erik remarked quietly. The tone of his voice made Charles' head dizzy, for underneath the thoughts that swirled on the surface of Erik's mind, there was something deeper that spoke of his want for something more. And Charles couldn't help himself but feel that this, this was the part where Erik would confess and tell him that he had loved Charles all along. It made Charles laugh a little apprehensively.

Erik took his hand, skin warm and his touch light, making Charles' skin tingle. "Please don't laugh at me, Charles." Charles looked down when Erik turned his hand over and pressed a soft, gentle kiss into his palm. He hadn't realised he craved this touch or realised it was a vital piece of himself that had been missing until now, until Erik had taken it upon himself to give him such a small gesture.

He should tell Erik to stop. He wasn't even in love with him! There was Raven-- He held his breath as warm lips pressed upwards and danced lightly upon the inside of his wrist. There, Charles was convinced, Erik must have felt the rushing beat of his pulse. Why was Erik doing this to him?, Charles wondered in his confusion. His traitorous body made no motion to withdraw his hand. So where had the sudden desire to run his hands through Erik's hair or to feel those lips pressed against his mouth, where he had forbidden Erik once?

No. This was-- this was all horribly improper. What if someone walked past and saw them like this? They would talk and spread slander across the town to-- to whom? There was hardly anyone left in town to care, to frown and shun. Charles squirmed uncomfortably and tried to take his hand back. He hadn't anticipated for this to happen to night, and certainly not with Erik.

Erik's huff of laughter tickled him. "No, don't go Charles. You may consider me a brute, but I would never hurt you."

"Hurt me? You think you could-- I am not afraid of you, Erik Lehnsherr. Far from it. I can take care of myself, you know."

"Yes, yes, so you say," Erik murmured, his pale eyes appearing ethereal underneath the light shining from across the road. "Charles, the way you carry on, you do like me, right?"

"Well," Charles said at length, drawing out the vowel. This was a topic of conversation he was more familiar with. "Sometimes. When you aren't mocking me and being - what was the word you used, ah, 'nefarious'."

His words made Erik laugh again, mirth dancing in his eyes. "I'm convinced you like me because of that quality. All of the alphas you have met are rather run of the mill, not at all very different from one another. Am I not like a breath of fresh air, in a very handsome package I might add, to your awfully mundane life?" He turned to press a cheek into Charles' hand, the stubble catching against Charles' skin not unpleasantly.

Charles blinked and slowly shook his head. "I like plenty of nice alphas, thank you. Alphas that will always act gentlealphaly to all the omega that they encounter."

"You mean the foolish men that you can manipulate any way you wish, by your definition of what being a gentlealpha would entail," Erik murmured, his lips pursing to press another kiss into Charles' hand. "But I digress. You do like me though."

"Of course."

"Could you ever learn to love me then, Charles?"

And there it was, the word that was setting off alarm bells in Charles' mind. "No. Not unless you do something about your atrocious manners."

"None of which I had any intention of changing for they serve me well. But it is good that you don't."

Wait. "You.. don't love me?"

Erik chuckled softly. "While I may like you enormously, I do not love you. Did you hope that I--"

"No! Don't assume.  It makes an ass out of you and me."

That made Erik shake uncontrollably with silent laughter, trying in vain to rein the noises in lest he woke up everyone in the street. "You had hoped. No, liebling. I do like you not because you are another charming omega who flaps around uselessly - there are far too many of those already who do a much better job at that than you do. I recognize that you are selfish and practical, which aren't necessarily bad qualities because I am like that also."

Charles opened his mouth in protest when Erik hushed him. "Don't interrupt. Now, I know you still cherish the idea of Mrs. Darkholme and will likely never let that go. But surely there is room for me to squeeze inside your heart? Charles, stop trying to interrupt! I am making a very important announcement." Charles grumbled and paused his fidgeting.

"Good. Now. You are the first omega that I have wanted so ardently. Ever since the first time I saw you at the Darkholme Estate walking up that staircase, I told myself that this would be the omega for me. I have never wanted anyone as much as I want you. And I have never waited so long for anyone. Only for you."

Nothing that Erik said made sense. He said one thing and now another. What could these words possibly mean? Despite all the mocking insults and jokes that he pulled, why doesn't he just be forthright about it?

"Are you... are you asking to marry me?"

To that, Erik had only laughed. "No! Have I not mentioned that I am not the marry type?"

"But-- Then, why?"

Erik rose from his perch and said quietly: "Liebling. I would never insult your intelligence by seducing you outright. But perhaps you would be my paramour."

"Paramour? Paramour?!" That was no better than being called someone's mistress. Charles was incredibly insulted. To be called someone's little bit on the side. How dare Erik consider him a fool? How dare Erik even give him such a proposition in the first place?

"What would I do, play nanny to your pack of brats? How dare you imply that I would be a willing party to such a life."

Erik stared for a long moment. Charles stared in turn, mortified for the words that he had blurted and for the implications that they held. And then Erik burst out into peals of laughter, his shoulders moving.

"Try to keep it down will you? People are sleeping," Charles hissed.

"Oh, Charles," Erik said in between gasps for air. "Trust you to measure a situation in what you stand to gain and not consider the morality issues. This is why I like you. Any other omega would have shown me the door."

"I'll show you the door," Charles growled as he jumped to his feet, shame now bleeding with the embarrassment on his face. "You are no gentlealpha at all!"

Erik laughed and got up, bowing to Charles; he always derived much amusement from making fun of Charles. "We have established this, liebling."

Charles whirled around and stalked towards the door, one hand on the handle. Of all the times for the door to be jammed, now would be the least opportune for it made his dramatic exit less so.

"Shall I get that for you?" Erik asked sweetly. Charles needn't have turned around to see the wide grin on Erik's face and wondered if perhaps Erik was the one that had fused the lock or something in the first place. The mechanism was metal and well within the realm of possibility in Erik's ideas to torment him.

Giving the door a final jerk, it miraculously opened and Charles turned his head, commenting snidely that it wouldn't be necessary. It felt satisfactory to close the door in Erik's face.

 

Hank's labor began, as most do, rather unexpectedly. The long week had been tense, filled with cannonfire at a frequency that worried everyone in New London. Erik seemed to have taken up permanent residence inside Aunt Letty's house when he wasn't out patrolling the streets at night. It was for the benefit of Hank, Erik declared when Charles had answered the door after Sean had gone to fetch him.

No one else living inside the house had any problems with it: Gabe was glad to have another friend and older alpha figure to charm and pester; Alex was indifferent about Erik's presence; Hank had been over the moon and then mortified that he couldn't be the gracious host that he had been brought up to be; and Sean was ever so glad that someone with the ability to repel missile had appeared and spent his time coming up with inventive new ways to cook for everyone. And Charles took Erik in with good grace. This was the time for war and if Mrs. Braddock found out about it, then she can write all the letters she wanted back to his mother and father.

Charles found he was long past the point of the opinions of other people. What they say to his face and what they say to other people were different to what they truly thought, as Charles had found when using his telepathy.

And with the MRA getting closer and closer, Charles hadn't the time to worry about anyone else but for the safety of his family, the wellbeing of his sister and Hank who was expected to give birth at any moment now. There wasn't anything he could do about the fighting taking place so close to Westchester and judging from the gaunt looks of the people living in New London, everyone knew that the end was nigh if that last railroad was to be taken.

Charles took Hank's dinner tray up to his room, knocking on the door faintly with his knuckles then opening the door just a crack. "Hank, are you awake?"

There was the muffled sound of the bed springs creaking and then Hank's tired voice said, "Yes. Please come in Charles."

Charles walked into the room and offered a wan smile. Hank was huge by now, and it might have been attested to his mutation or otherwise. His blue fur had deepened into a darker navy colour now, although that could also have been because of the light. His face was bloated with excess water and Hank slowly rolled over onto his side, mindful of his belly.

"How are you feeling today, Hank?" Charles asked softly, walking towards the bed and set the tray onto the bedside table.

"I've been better," Hank admitted with a soft grimace that was more teeth than smile. "I'll be glad to get this thing out of me. Come sit down beside me?" Charles sat down and Hank immediately took his hand in his large paw.

"Of course."

"Charles, you have been nothing short of patient with me and I am grateful for it. I feel that we are closer than brothers. And I adore you and love you, and apologise that I have been nothing but a burden to you." Hank gave a self-deprecating smile. "I want to know - if anything is to happen to me and I should die - that you will look after the baby."

Charles stared at Hank in absent horror. The baby? How could Hank trust him with the child, Raven's child. Why, he doesn't know the first thing about giving something so small the proper care it requires, and here Hank was trusting him enough to ask that of him?

"I-If Raven is- I want to know that you will. I'm afraid of leaving this world and leaving the baby all alone with no one to care for it. Sparrow is far too young and an alpha, he wouldn't know what to do but-- If the baby turns out to be an alpha, I want them to grow up to be like Raven, and if the baby is an omega, I should dearly hope that they would be like you."

"You aren't going to die, Hank, so stop thinking that," Charles said, giving Hank's hand a squeeze. "Bring up your own child the way you want them to grow up."

"I'm sorry, Charles. But please, promise me. If I don't make it, that you will--"

"Fine, I promise. Do you feel well enough to have some food?"

Hank grimaced and his hand landed on his protruding belly. "Possibly a bite or two, but not more than that. I think the baby wants to come out today... I've been having mild pains all day."

The news jolted Charles and he frowned down at Hank. "Why didn't you say anything earlier? I'll send Sean to find Dr. Namor and get him here right away."

"No, not yet, it's okay. Perhaps send Sean with word that he will be needed sometime later tonight or tomorrow morning. He must be exhausted and he needs all the rest that he can get, and I don't want to pull him away from looking after the others... Perhaps send word along to Mrs. Braddock and ask her to come sit with me. She can bring Betsy over. She'll know what to do and when we simply can't put it off any longer and we require Dr. Namor."

Charles continued frowning. "You know how complicated male pregnancies can be, Hank. Stop being so difficult. You require his services just as any of the other alphas laying there at the hospital."

"Please, Charles. You know how long the baby can take to come out and Dr. Namor doesn't have hours to spend waiting. Mrs. Braddock will know what to do."

Charles eventually acquiesced, standing over Hank until he swallowed two bites of food, then sent Sean to fetch Mrs. Braddock. Alex and Gabe were still sat at the table, quietly pushing the last of the porridge around their bowl. There was still fighting and the sound of cannons could be heard, muffled as it was by distance. Erik was skulking about the living room, left to his own devices. They would be safe as long as Erik was there to deflect any projectiles headed towards the house.

He quietly finished his portion of food and joined Erik, moving a white pawn forward in open invitation. Chess was a good distraction; they both played abysmally without the proper concentration that would have spelt a competitive match otherwise. Sean was taking a long time, Charles thought, as he moved his bishop forward and chased Erik's king around the board.

The front door opened with a loud clack and both Erik and Charles stood up as Sean through it alone. "Sean. What took you so long? Did Mrs. Braddock say anything? How soon will she be over?"

Sean shook his head. "I couldn't find her. I asked around but all the serving folk have said that Betsy Braddock had been shot. She isn't able to help out Mr. Hank. I even tried to find Mrs. Pryde's but no one was home. They said she might be at the hospital on a night shift."

Charles scowled. Of all the times for no one to be in the time. It may turn out that they would have to deliver the baby themselves. He wracked his brains to figure out who else was still in town. "Sean, I want you to find who you can, any of the older omegafolk will do. Perhaps even the more experienced servingfolk who have experience in midwifing. Mr. Hank's baby is coming out soon and will require all the help he can get any minute now. I want you to go quickly and then come straight back."

Sean nodded and quickly headed out the front door, the sound of his footsteps receding into the background. There wasn't any thing else he could do but to wait and prepare some rudimentary things.

"Is there anything we can do to help?"

Charles turned around, surprised to find the Summers brothers and Erik standing awkwardly in the foyer. He had forgotten about them since none of them made the midwife criteria.

"We're going to need fresh water and towels and try to keep Mr. Hank as comfortable as possible. Gabe, I want you to keep an eye on the door and let me know as soon as Sean returns. Erik, get the water. Alex, come help me gather all the towels and linen we have left."

It took two hours for Sean to return. Erik hovered awkwardly in the doorway, fetching water as needed. Alex and Charles sponged Hank's limbs to the best of their abilities, although it was difficult to tell whether their efforts was helping through all of Hank's thick fur.

Sean was panting air when "Mr. Charles! There's no one that can--"

"Never mind that," Charles said, trying to keep from snapping. "Erik, write a note asking for Dr. Namor, or any other doctor to come. Give that to Sean to deliver. Once you have done that, I want you to ask the engineers down by the station for any news about the fighting, about Westchester." Erik and Sean nodded, scrambling to do as Charles asked.

He pushed the concerns for his family to the back of his mind; there was nothing he could do from such a distance. And Hank was his main concern right now. He needed to focus on helping Hank through this now.

"How are you feeling?" Charles asked, wiping Hank's brow with some cool water. Hank was quiet, and Charles marvelled at his ability to keep all the pain inside. Such silent endurance was admirable. "Don't try to lie to me."

"It hurts," Hank admitted, hissing through his teeth at the sudden onset of pain. "Like something is trying to rip me in two."

Charles clutched down on Hank's hand in his. "Do you want me to dull down your pain receptors? I can do that for you, not a problem." He babbled a little longer, and winced when Hank's hand attempted to crush the bones in Charles' hand.

"Please... I'm so sorry that I'm causing you so much trouble..."

"Don't you dare say that. You aren't any trouble, Hank. Let me just-" The unpained sigh that left Hank's mouth was a good sign. An hour crawled past and then another. Gabe had fallen asleep on Erik who sat out in the hallway on a chair. Alex and Charles kept at it, doing their best to keep Hank as comfortable as possible, despite his clothes and fur sticking to him.

What would he do if the baby was to arrive before Dr. Namor came? Could they actually deliver it? Charles was convinced none of them had any experience in midwifery. He should have read up on it more or asked about it when he still had the chance, when New London still had people to learn from. Hank gave a groan, whimpering as the first contractions began. They couldn't wait for Dr. Namor and Charles was going to be Hank's best bet in surviving childbirth.

Charles let out a sigh and shook Erik's shoulder. "Erik, wake up." Erik's eyelids flew open, his eyes focusing as sleep bled out of his frame. "Sorry," Charles said, lips twisted in a wry smile. "Hank's baby has decided it doesn't want to stay in and if Sean doesn't come back soon, we'll have to deliver it ourselves." Had it been any other time, Charles would have enjoyed the blood draining from Erik's face.

"What do you want me to do?" Erik asked, pragmatic. It was a quality Charles appreciated at a time like this.

"Some hot water, twine and a pair of scissors, go quickly. And put Gabe to bed please. At least one of us ought to make use of it." Erik lifted Gabe into his arms and trotted off to do as Charles bid. Although Erik hadn't lived with them for very long, Charles was certain he could locate those items with little problem. All that was left was to prepare Alex and Sean to help him with Hank when the time came.

The flies were a nuisance, but there was little any of them could do to help the situation. Charles' clothes were drenched with sweat and he had long donned an apron for when the time came. It was thankfully cooler at night; Charles took great comfort in the smallest things right now.

Hank lay upon sheets already dark with his perspiration; his fur was a blessing during winter but now it made him all irritable as he writhed from side to side, trying to find the most comfortable position. And all they could do was watch on, Alex standing next to Charles and Sean quivering in the corner. Erik had taken to stalking up and down the hallway outside like a caged tiger.

Sometimes Hank would sit up but then would fall back down, exhausted by the movement and began twisting again on the bed. Hank was being quiet, biting down on his lips to keep the sounds in, and Charles, noticing this, took Hank's sweaty hand and said, "Hank, now is not the time to be keeping everything in. Yell if it makes you feel better. I wouldn't be saying this were you Sean, but aren't we all glad we won't be in that position?" They exchanged a tired wry smile until the next contraction hit, tearing a scream from Hank's throat.

Oh if only he hadn't been so young and naive as to so quickly dismiss the talk relating to childbirth that the old married omegafolk often whispered in the past. Was Hank taking a long time? Could someone actually die from labor? Was a long labor a good thing or not? Hadn't Aunt Letty once had a friend who went into labor for three days and died? Charles looked dubiously down at Hank. There was a possibility that Charles could not stay awake that long to block out Hank's pain receptors.

And male omega pregnancies were notoriously difficult without the added pressure of war and malnutrition. He could never face Raven, if she was still alive, that he had lost both the child and Hank in the process. After all, Charles promised to look after Hank.

"How long do you think it will take?" Sean asked from his corner, breaking the silence. Charles who shook his head. He doesn't know.

It went on for hours, Hank's strength waxed and waned for hours, often calling out for Raven. Until the time came when the baby's furry blue head was being pushed out of Hank's body along with blood and excrement. Alex and Sean did their best to assist Charles, both boys coaxing Hank to push and do his best. Charles made them hold Hank's knees back and had done his best despite his gaps in knowledge. Erik, like an annoying pest in summers heat, hovered in and out of the doorway until Charles snapped at him to come sit and hold Hank's hand.

The wait had been the worst of it, and soon, there was a small blue baby boy, furry like a new born cat, mewling quietly. Alex and Sean had been celebrating as they washed the little one in the hot water, exhausted grins on their faces. Charles quickly tended to Hank who had smiled when Charles had told him it was a boy. He had whispered the name Leon before drifting off to sleep a moment later, not that Charles could blame him.

Between Erik and Charles, they stripped Hank's bed of its sheets to change the linens with Hank being supported mid air by Erik's powers and some reshaped lamps. There was nothing they could do for the smell except to keep a window open for some fresh air.

Charles walked into the kitchen to find Alex and Sean both yawning, their enthusiasm could only give them an energy boost for so long. He took little Leon from them, now clean and a healthy looking shade of blue, and cradled Leon close to his chest. He was a tiny little creature, little breaths making the blankets shift.

"You've caused us all a great deal of problem, young Master Darkholme," Charles chided quietly, with a small smile on his face. He walked out the front to look as the sun began to rise up over the neighbour's roof, golden rays of light creeping over. "Look at that, the sun wants to say hello." Now that Leon was in his protective arms, Charles couldn't wrangle the usual jealousy he once harboured for Hank. This little baby was the product of Raven and Hank, little fingers and toes all present and tucked safely away from the cold morning air, was the innocent picture of babes born in the middle of a war. He softly hummed a few bars of a lullaby that Brian used to once sing to him as a small child, rocking backwards and forth slowly.

He didn't notice when Erik leaned against the doorframe of the front door, soaking in the sight of the golden halo that surrounded Charles and the child. He didn't notice when he started to loop the lullaby, verses long forgotten due to time; Leon didn't seem to mind and neither did Erik. He did notice when Erik wrapped his arms around him, around them both and planted a kiss into the side of Charles' head. And if Charles overheard Erik's thoughts that they were one family, his family and not a rag tag group forced to live together because of the war, he chose not to reply.

 

The evacuation of the last of New London began two days after Leon was born. Hank was still weak, unable to move over long distances very far and that had set the delay on their plans to go. People were streaming out of their houses and headed in one direction: away from the MRA. Thankfully now that the pressure of delivering Hank's child was no longer there, Charles had come up with a rudimentary plan on how to get away. But to go where? Charles was convinced he ought to return to his family and where Charles went, Hank would follow. The Summers brothers were anxious to return home too and it was unanimously decided they would attempt it.

Everything they could preserve and find were ready at the door. All that they needed was a horse and cart to take them to Westchester, both that Erik had vowed to provide. He was sat upon the back porch with Gabe when the sound of distant thunder came in. No, not thunder. Genosha hadn't gotten rain in quite some time.

It was definitely the sound of cannon fire. Charles strained his ears for the sound of things exploding in town as he peered from the back porch. There was a faint pinkish red glow that appeared in the trees, as it grew brighter and brighter. He moved for a better look until a large swirl of flame leapt fiercely into the sky. They were close, far too close.

"Erik! Get everyone into the carriage as soon as you can!"

The MRA was beginning to burn the town. There was no time to prepare anything else. Charles ran up the stairs to reach his room for a higher look, his mind racing a mile a minute as he tried to charter the best route. Erik would be able to get them through anything, protect them from the shelling. Erik was a clever man and reliable. He'll make sure they got out of town safely. There were people running, screaming, fleeing New London as the MRA rolled in slowly. The sky was red, the colour of blood, and great plumes of black smoke was rising upwards.

The smell of smoke was rolling through the town now, and it would take mere minutes if the wind was right to reach Aunt Letty's house. The MRA soldiers would soon be upon them if they don't leave soon and fast. He hastily ran down the stairs and was met by a red faced Sean, cheek streaked with soot.

"How close are they?"

"We still have time. It's just the engineers and the rest of the Brotherhood burning up the supplies and the warehouses. The explosions was just the sound of our own cannon balls and gunpowder going off," Sean explained in one big rush.

"Fine weather today, isn't it?" Erik commented wryly as he loaded the last of their scant belongings into the wagon. The horses hitched to it were none of the finest bred horses that the Summers prided themselves on, but they looked sure-footed enough, if a little underfed. Then again, what wasn't these days?

"I don't believe you. This is not the time for jokes!" Charles hissed. Hank was holding Leon protectively against his chest, large towels covering him to protect him from the smoke and soot. Sat next to him was Sean, who was putting on a brave face. Alex tried his best to hush his brother, holding him protectively against his side and whispering that everything was going to be alright. Gabe was quivering like a leaf in autumn, frightened.

"If not now, then when?" Erik asked as he picked Charles up by his waist and set him onto the driver's seat before climbing in after him.

 

The horses moved reluctantly throughout New London, the pace slow. Charles and Erik bickered the entire way, arguing over which route was the best to choose.

"Who's the one holding the reins?" Erik bellowed. "Everything is collapsing in around us, and you want me to take the 'as the crow flies' method?"

"If you had picked a better pair of horses, then we wouldn't require that method at all!"

The trees around them were dark and the houses were all still, empty and silent. The white picket fences had a light dusting of soot and looked more like rows of tombstones, eerily spectating as Erik cut an arc around town and headed towards the warehouse district. The smell of smoke was getting stronger and Charles could feel the warm caress of the fire's heat upon his cheek.

"Must we head towards the fire?" Charles asked.

"It'll be alright, Charles. I'll get you out of here safely," Erik reassured him as he flicked the reins and jolted the horses into motion. Charles couldn't feel his fingers, cold as he was despite the fire all around them. There used to be stores, people laughing, children playing where the flames now stood. He swallowed, unsure, and pressed closer against Erik's side, seeking some comfort in his close proximity.

Erik looked awfully majestic and calm in the backdrop of the awful crimson glow. His pale eyes flashed with something, the flames reflected in his eyes dancing and altogether too frightening. His mouth was pulled down, grim, but everything about him seemed to relish this challenge.

"Before I forget," Erik murmured, he pulled out one of the flintlock pistols hanging from his belt. "The woods that separate us and Westchester will be filled with deserters and desperate alphafolk. If you can't use your telepathy, shoot them first. Just don't kill the horse."

"I have a pistol of my own already," Charles said as he pulled out the ornately decorated pistol that belonged to Bobby. He abhorred violence, but it was impossible to know if there would come a moment where he would be able to shoot anyone at such close range, let alone pull the trigger. Up ahead stood the last of the Brotherhood, the Rear Guard, marching as they were towards the only road that was available to them. No longer were the resplendent in their glory. To Charles, they looked weary and hastily put together, bandaged up as they were with rifles that were little better than wooden swords for all the good that it did them.

Erik watched them curiously, a curiously moody look upon his face as the reins went suddenly lax in his hands. Charles yelled at Erik, hoping to get his attention. Now was not the time to be daydreaming! Erik never made any reply to Charles' words, but the reins were taut once more. The horses pulled them over the railroad tracks, making the passengers all jostle about. Everyone was coughing in the back now, the smoke thick and acrid; little Leon was wheezing.

Straight ahead was a street with both sides on fire, a tunnel made of fire that reminded Charles of an oven. Erik's face was oddly still, absent of any emotion as if he was surprised to find himself where he was all of a sudden. His larger frame was suddenly hunkered down, the once clean white cotton shirt of his wet from sweat, like the small rivulets that ran over his forehead and left clean tracks in the soot that was gathering on his cheeks. And still he did nothing to wipe it away.

It was frightening Charles a little how unanimated this Erik had become, but he didn't question it, not until the wagon was pointed in a direction towards the dark and the red in the sky was bleeding away, as the horses plodded along on a dark path away from New London. Away from his home away from home.

When had it become night? It felt like it had been but the morning only a scant few moments ago. Charles was ever so glad that Erik was not part of the Brotherhood. He wasn't sure they would have been able to get out of the current mess had it not been for Erik and he shared all of those thoughts with Erik.

Erik stared at him for a good long moment, a frown on his face. Charles was surprised to find that there wasn't any mockery as contempt made his lips twist down. In the fading fire light, Erik pulled up a lantern from the base of his feet and struck a match to illuminate the darker path of the dark wood around them. He eased the horses to a stop.

"Erik?"

"We're outside of town now. If you keep going down this road it will eventually lead you back to Westchester."

"Good! We should hurry."

Erik shook his head and looked at the horses, both of them panting for air. "They won't get you very far if you run them into the ground like that. Charles, I have to ask again, are you sure you want to get to Westchester? It would be suicide trying to get through to the MRA."

"Yes! Erik... Why?"

Erik shook his head. "Going down this main road would definitely mean you will encounter the troops from the MRA. Take some of the older wagon roads and trails and stay off the main road if you can. I trust you know some that you can use."

"There's an old route that Father and I used to ride out. Mother and I used to explore a lot too before they adopted my sisters. It would swing past through to the Rasputin's ranch."

Erik nodded. "Good. Take those routes. It's likely that the MRA won't be there yet. And if you encounter any of their soldiers, I'm certain you can change their minds."

Charles blinked. Ever since they walked out of what remained of New London, Erik had been acting peculiar. "What do you mean, I can get through? Aren't you coming with us?"

"No. I'll be leaving you here."

"What?" Charles asked, his mouth wide open, flabbergasted. Erik smiled brightly at him, white straight teeth gleaming in the light coming from the lantern, a little of his usual cheer returning. "I demand you accompany us back to Westchester!"

Erik shook his head. "Liebling. There are just some things an alpha has to do. For I am returning to New London, and I am going to join the Brotherhood. Better late than never as they say for the Glorious and Just Cause requires all the help it can get."

"But.. but you can't! I need you. You can't just-- I can't--" Charles shook his head. He couldn't be responsible for all the lives of those in the wagon. How was he to know whether there would be mines in the battlefields or if there were any defectors trying to steal their horses or anything else that could be thrown in his direction, intent on separating him from Westchester.

"Selfish, aren't we? Thinking only of yourself even as the Brotherhood does its very best to serve and protect. Think of how much good I can do with my mutation. I wouldn't just be protecting little Aunt Letty's house, but perhaps I could even be the missing factor that can spell victory for the Brotherhood."

"But you can't just leave us... leave me here."

Erik smiled and took one of Charles' hands in his, kissing the back of it fondly. "I can, and I will. I believe in you and you are certainly far from being helpless. Why, I imagine you could have done well applying your skills on the battlefield earlier on, but that is neither here nor there." Erik let go of the reins and stepped down, turning around to look at Charles. "Come, get out of the wagon. There's just one last thing..."

Charles wasn't given the option to refuse when he felt Erik's strong arms around him, dragging him a little ways down away from prying, curious eyes underneath the lantern's light.

"Erik..."

"Charles, I'm not asking you to ever understand why I was- I don't care either if you do chose to forgive me for my small moment of insanity. Who knew there was still a small patriotic bone left in me?" Erik laughed, a carefree sound that was echoed throughout the woodland. "There was a saying by a man called Laozi: 'Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage'. And I love you, Charles, with every fibre of my very being, despite what I may have said on the porch that night when I came to investigate."

Charles gasped, suddenly feeling very warm as Erik's large, strong hands bled through the thin cotton shirt covering his upper arms. Erik's voice was like velvet, caressing tendering. "I love you because we are similar creatures. We want the same thing and I want you by my side always. I want to provide for you and start a family with you. That morning, when you held Leon in your arms and greeted the new day with a cheerful tired look on your face, I thought to myself that I had never seen a more perfect sight in my life and I longed that one day it would be our child in your arms."

Charles couldn't think past the litany of 'Why now, why is he leaving. He is leaving me' and whimpered when Erik readjusted his grip on his body. Erik's arms were warm and held him tightly around his waist and his shoulders, hard muscles underneath the hand that Charles had pressed up against Erik's chest.

"Erik..."

"Come now, Charles. Be a little patriotic, won't you? There's nothing like sending a soldier off with to his impending doom with beautiful memories to think of, right?"

Charles choked back a sob and leaned up to press their lips together. Erik had promised him once upon a time that Charles ought to be kissed and kissed by someone that knew how to. The way Erik moved his lips over Charles', slowly and thoroughly claiming, as if he had nothing better to do than to kiss Charles all night long. If only. Erik had definitely kept his word, for he had never been kissed like this ever. None of the shy little chaste teasing kisses from Charles' youth could measure up to this, the way his skin crawled and felt suddenly two sizes too small and simultaneously two sizes too big.

Charles couldn't rein in the sound of a moan as Erik's lips moved down his throat and sucked a mark into his skin where his shirt parted at the collar, just above the jugular vein where his blood pulsed quickly with arousal underneath. How could an alpha make him feel this way? How could any alpha that wasn't Raven do this to him? When had Erik crept into his affections like this?

"You taste so sweet, liebling," Erik murmured, running the tip of his nose up and down Charles neck and stealing another kiss until the loud cries of Leon broke them apart.

Erik could hear "Erik. You don't have to go back there. You can come with me, come with us back to Westchester. We've already come this far. We need you. I need you."

Erik looked fond when he caressed his cheek, an action that Charles couldn't help but to lean his face into. "You don't, Charles. Not really. Only when it's convenient for you. But now there are others out there that require me more."

"Don't you dare go and die on me."

"I'll do my utmost to not. I'm quite content with living." Charles closed his eyes and tried not to sob aloud when Erik kissed him one last time on his forehead and moved away, arms and warmth receding as he walked towards the wagon, stopping by the side of it to have words with everyone in it.

"Mr. Darkholme?"

Alex cleared his throat, putting his hand over Sean's forearm lest he let out one of his supersonic screams and gave their location all away. "Hank fainted sometime back."

"Still alive?"

"Still breathing," Alex nodded.

"Then that's better for him right now. Take good care of him, Sean. Here's a gold coin for you. There's a good lad."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Erik turned to Gabe next, who was peering around Alex's elbow with shiny eyes. Charles watched as Erik tousled Gabe's dirty blonde hair and said, "You're a big boy now. Can you protect everyone for me, Gabe? Without the dogs, you're the only alpha around and I'm trusting you." Gabe rubbed the tears off his face with the back of his sleeve and nodded to Erik, brave determination showing on his face. And with Alex, Erik gave his shoulder a squeeze, a comforting touch that seemed to carry out entire conversations between them.

Erik set off afterwards, stopping a little ways at the top of the small hill to look back. Charles could feel Erik's eyes on him, drinking in the sight in the low glow of the lantern. This had been his family for the past few days. There was nothing left to be said. There was the sound of pebbles crunching underneath the soles of a boot and Charles strained to train his eyes on the broad set of Erik's shoulders until he melted away into the shadows. He could hear the heavy sound of his footsteps for a little while, and the quiet swirl of his grim resolve in his thoughts that was comforting not at all.

And then, Erik was gone, thoughts and all.

Charles walked slowly back to the horse and cart, his hands shaking. He was now the sole person responsible for everyone's lives sitting in the back of that cart from here on out, until such a time that they arrived safely in Westchester. He hadn't understood why Erik had the sudden change of heart, the man who enjoyed creature comforts, liquor, gambling and the pleasures of the body. Why had he turned back to walk towards his inevitable end, where only hunger and sickness and cold and certain death awaited like lions circling in for the kill. When had Erik been so selfless as to risk his own life like the fools that they had jeered about in the past?

Erik had said he had loved him all along and now he was gone. Charles hadn't had the time to analyse his own affections for Erik; there was never enough time. Could there ever be the opportunity to tell Erik that he was loved, he could be loved?

Charles pressed his face, fingers tangled into the mane of the horse and let the tears fall.

 

The trip back to Westchester was slow going. They had waited until first morning light and the wagon was hardly conducive towards a restful night's sleep. Charles entire back ached as he sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes until panic lanced straight through him. He quickly looked about and felt relieved when he found there was no one, especially no MRA soldiers in sight.

Everyone was still alive, still safe. Gabe was tucked in close against Hank's side and Alex kept a protective arm around his little brother. Sean was curled up at the end of the wagon, all knobbly knees and long limbs tucked in close like a cat. Charles roused them quickly, for they were still not safe until they reached Westchester. He clambered to sit in the drivers seat and took the reins in hand, urging the horses onward through abandoned fields and woodland.

His mind was a cacophony of activity, fear keeping him alert at all times and always on the lookout for the brain activity of others, whether friend or foe mattered not for Charles had to keep everyone safe. They stopped only once in the shade by the river, where the horses could drink their fill and gained a few minutes rest. Hank stayed in the wagon, looking thankful when Charles returned to bring him some water.

The landscape had changed as a result of the war and Charles felt a rising panic grow within him when they set off once more and he could not find the little trail he once explored with his parents. They travelled quickly and quietly, and as soon as dusk fell, Charles could see that the fires were being lit by someone far away; he took painstaking lengths to circle around and ensure that they wouldn't be found in case it was the MRA.

There was hardly any food that they could share between the five of them and Charles was worried that they would run out, especially with five mouths to feed. Hank was taking everything without any complaint, but this was no place for an omega that had just given birth. All of them placed their silent trust in Charles, and the lantern hadn't had enough oil in it to keep them going for very long into the night that Charles had to concede the fact that they wouldn't be making any progress. With the help of Alex and Sean, they unhitched the horses, tethering them to some low branches, and all clambered into the back of the wagon once more, huddling close for warmth.

The next morning, Charles was surprised to find that they had stopped for the night next to a small glade off a smaller plantation that had been under the ownership of the Greys. There wasn't much now except for grass and dirt, which the horses had been happy to lip at all night and the house which stood resolute and silent.

There wasn't any help to be found there and Charles shivered as the eerie stillness could only be borne from death. The once humble white homestead with its green lawn was no more, for hooves and wheels and numerous feet had churned the soil up. The house itself had seen better days, now only ruins and the solid grey foundation remained along with the chimneys that had once lead to the cooking fires and the living room.

Charles shuddered to think that he would find Westchester in a similar state and he turned quickly back around, running his hands over the neck of one of the horses. The sooner they hitched the horses back to the wagon, the sooner they could return. He must hurry home, for there was nothing he could do now for the Greys' plantation except to scavenge what little they could and move forward.

He ignored the horrendous smell that came from travelling and urged them all along. Sean hurried to refill their canteens from the well. With Alex and Gabe around, the horses were at least cared for enough to ensure that they would at least make it to Westchester in due time. Hank stayed with the wagon, his arms filled with Leon. He turned golden eyes up at Charles, apologising that he couldn't do much else right then but to keep an eye on the horses and the wagon.

They scoured the little vegetable patch and breathed a little sigh of relief when he found some apples, mostly unripe on the branches but they would have to do. There was plenty enough for them all there hopefully.

From the Grey's plantation, it would take them almost the entire day to reach Westchester. Charles knew he could run the distance in that time, but he couldn't just abandon them all. He glared down at the dusty road, sighing softly at the distance that still laid ahead. The sun was shining overhead and he would have to pick a route along the Little Brook to keep the horses going long enough to get them there.

Would the wagon even last the journey to Westchester? It was starting to squeak and groan in a manner that was deeply disconcerting. Was Westchester still-? The fighting at Greymalkin had been concentrated and Charles couldn't bear to find his family all missing, presumably dead. He wouldn't know what to do after that then.

Charles shook his head, freeing his mind of those thoughts. They weren't dead yet unless Charles saw their bodies, and with that in mind, he flicked the reins and urged them to walk on in the direction of home.

 

As they walked closer and closer to home, Charles felt his very skin crawl. The warm sun that had beat down upon them from above was now sunk down, snug amongst the hills. The houses that they had walked past had been riddled with bullet holes, chimneys standing tall like lonely guardians. There hadn't seen anyone or anything living for a very long time. There were fields covered with corpses of men and animals, red, bloated, with black flies droning and circling their prizes in victory. There were no livestock to be seen, no wildlife to trill their songs, no wind to rustle the leaves on the trees for there were none amongst the branches. Only the sound of the horses hooves beating upon the earth and the occasional sniffling cry from Leon.

This had been Greymalkin, a place that Charles had grown up playing in. Nothing was familiar, the landmarks made by hand all but erased now. The sun was setting, but the night was relatively clear and with the moon rising above them, they could navigate by its light. He would push the horses through the night, for he didn't fancy staying amongst the death that clung to every inch of Greymalkin. Brian. Sharon. His sisters. They were all waiting for him.

Charles kept his shoulders straight and plunged on, dragging the last stores of his courage to get them that last inch forward. Everyone was counting on him. And with the moon shining down on them, high in the sky, the stars twinkling and beckoning him onward. Home, home, they chorused, just a little bit longer. You're almost there.

Charles hoped against all hope that he would not find Westchester burnt to the ground, with no one there to greet him. Had he brought everyone along with him for naught, against all common sense? But then, if not home, then where? It would have been better to have stayed in New London and died there than to survive all the harsh sun and the uncomfortable jolting to find that there was only silence that greeted them.

The journey was long and arduous and Charles despaired in his head that they wouldn't be able to make it back home, that something would inevitably go wrong. The horses wheezed as they pulled the wagon up the hill until they reached the very top of the rise. It was difficult to see the tall dogwood trees that had once surrounded the long drive down to Westchester, all of it now a series of dark tall masses that melted into the black sky. There was no light, nothing that indicated that there was anybody home.

Charles gasped as cold fear gripped his heart.

He clucked his tongue and turned the horses into the drive, wishing their slow steps would go quicker. Squinting against the tunnel of darkness, Charles tried to make out whether Westchester was still standing. Was that white he saw up ahead or just a trickery of the eye?

The closer they got towards the homestead, Charles could make out the roof still standing proudly and his heart was quickly drumming thanks to whatever god that happened to be listening. How had Westchester managed to not get hit, like the Grey's plantation? Was it his imagination and the darkness concealing the truth?

Charles scrambled out of the seat as soon as the horses pulled to a stop, running up there rest of the way. His telepathy was sent out in every direction, hoping to feel familiar minds amongst the desolation. making scans for people in the area There, at the top of the steps stood someone, a shadowy form in the dim light that Charles couldn't quite make out.

It was... his mother, Sharon. The bubbling feelings of elation in his stomach that threatened to burst out deflated in his throat. Westchester was still intact and yet, it still clung to the murky darkness like the quiet that had blanketed Greymalkin and the once beautiful countryside.

"Mother?"

The shadow twitched, as she slowly descended the steps. Something was different about her. Was her knee acting up again?

Charles ran up towards her, stopping cautiously in case Sharon mistook her for an MRA soldier. "Mother? It's me- Charles. Charles Francis? I- I'm home."

Sharon turned towards his voice and walked closer, gait shuffling. She stood looking at him in disbelief, somewhat dazed, as if he were a part of a dream.

"Charles?" Her hand came up to cup his cheek, and then the other rose to mirror it. "You've come home." Her voice wobbled and she didn't say anything more.

Sharon looked different. There had once been a spark of life that lit her bright blue eyes, the same ones that he had inherited. But now, the spark had fizzled out and instead she looked at him as if Charles was only half there.

There was a faint snuffling almost wail-like sound coming from the wagon. "I... I've brought home Hank and his baby," Charles explained as Sharon walked towards the wagon. "You remember Alex and Gabe Summers, don't you mother?"

"Of course," Sharon said quietly, reaching in to give Hank's arm a squeeze. "You are all always welcome at Westchester. I'm afraid to tell you that the Darkholme Estate has been burnt to the ground. But there is plenty of room for you all to stay. There are also others staying here, those that have lost their homes."

Gingerly, everyone clambered out of the wagon and walked inside to the hall.

"Young Master Charles, is that you? Do you remember me?" Charles squinted up to find it was Janos, the quiet beta who everyone assumed hadn't talked. The same Janos who worked for the Darkholmes all those years ago.

"Janos. It is a pleasant surprise to find you here!"

"Master Brian... Master Brian was kind enough to offer a place here at Westchester after-" Janos trailed off. Charles patted the back of his hand quietly, trying not to feel his own heart seize at the news that a place he had once considered to be the next master of no longer existed; that Raven's childhood home no longer existed.

"We've come a long way. Hank is still very weak and can't walk very far, carefully carry him upstairs and put him in the room opposite of mine. Sean, take Leon and the Summer brothers inside. I should like to see Moira, if she is here, please send word."

Janos nodded and quickly trotted down to reach Hank, who obligingly shuffled to the edge. And once Janos' strong arms were around him, Hank let out a sigh as he leaned his head against Janos' strong shoulder. Sean lead the way inside with Leon in his arms and the Summers brothers flanking his sides.

Something. Something was different, and it sat ill in his stomach not knowing what it was.

"Mother... Is everyone well?"

"The girls are fine."

Charles felt his insides turn numb, this time the silence was different from what he was used to. Was this why Westchester was oddly sombre.

"Your father--" Sharon started and then paused.

"Father never caught the fever? It had been just--"

"Your father died an hour ago."

 

Brian looked at peace and Charles stood in the doorway looking into the study where Brian had worked in. He was numb all over, but Charles couldn't let his thoughts stop at his father's death. Sharon wasn't being particularly helpful and without Sharon paving the way for her children and offering guidance, it rested on Charles' shoulders to shoulder the burden, to make sure Westchester thrived once more now that the war was over.

It still looked the same, with Brian's chair pushed in neatly at the table that Sharon had painstakingly made for him as their first wedding anniversary present. There was still the thick account book on the desk and the encylopaedic tomes and notebooks that were filled with Brian's neat writing were still there, within hand's reach. The only thing missing was Brian, a mug of tea in hand that smelt of sweet lemons and honey, and a smile on his face as he wrote down the results of some experiment or another. And never again would he sit there ever again.

Sharon stood quietly next to him, eyes oddly glazed over as if she was chasing ghosts from the past. Charles couldn't allow himself to join her in his memories. He was now the eldest omega and the only son of the Xavier family. He had to keep working, take up Brian's job, keep his family together. Charles couldn't afford to fall apart now.

Janos came back into view, quietly standing by his side and holding the last candle.

"Janos, I know you mustn't have stayed here for very long,  but can you tell me are there any servingfolk left at Westchester?" Charles asked. He wouldn't have been surprised if there wasn't anyone left.

"Just Moira and myself, sir. And Sean now that he has returned." Three! There had been once a hundred or so servingfolk that had roamed the lands of Westchester and now, there was only three.

"And what of the food situation?"

"They took everything, sir. We have nothing left to eat."

"Not exactly. Father hid away some of the apples in storage underneath the house. I'm sure. Did they set fire to any part of the orchard?"

Janos shook his head. "Only the Northern section."

Charles nodded, those could be replaced. It would be best if they could sustain themselves on what they could find from the land. There were pockets of forgotten casks and jars just waiting for minds to remember.

"There were potatoes I planted some time ago. I'll ride out at first light to check and get a scope of the damage that they have done. Janos, tend to the two horses and unhitch them from the wagon. I don't suppose there's any food or something to drink...?" What Charles could do for a glass of refreshing cider.

"Only some apples and water," Janos added with a wry smile. There were worse things to be eating and Charles could only be grateful that at least Westchester was still producing some kind of food.

"That will have to do."

Charles moodily wondering if it were possible for the MRA to steal everything away from him: his mother, his friends, his family, Erik. There was little now left in the house, just looking around the spartan homestead. Which still lead to the question of why Westchester was still left standing.

"Run along now Janos and please see to Hank and the brothers getting something to eat. I imagine they would want to recover from the journey." Janos bowed and quickly trotted away, disappearing to do as Charles bid, leaving him alone with Sharon.

"Mother?" Charles squeezed Sharon's hand twice to get her attention. She was still thinking about Brian, a topic that Charles was eager to steer clear of for now. He had to be strong now for everyone. "Mother, why hadn't they burnt down Westchester?"

Sharon lifted her head to look at Charles, seeing right through him, a confused sort of expression on her face as if she hadn't understood the question. Charles repeated the question slowly.

"Westchester--" Sharon huskily repeated, "this was their headquarters."

"The MRA.. here in this house?" Sharon nodded slowly, movements lethargic. Charles felt his skin crawl. It just was not possible that these walls that had once held Brian could have been crawling with humans and non-powered betas less than a few weeks ago, hours even!

"How did they--"

Sharon sighed softly. "They came through like a wave, a rush, sweeping through the Darkholme Estate before they finally came to Westchester. Janos had come to stay with us, but it had been thankful that Miss Leonora and Young Sparrow had taken up refuge with someone or another elsewhere. The house was empty regardless. You see, Charles, we couldn't leave Westchester. Your sisters were sick and then your father-- it was impossible for us to go. Most of our servingfolk ran and I wager they won't be coming back. We have no more horses, no more wagons. All we had left was Moira and Janos. They are good and brave. The girls, your father-- they couldn't be moved. It would have made them feel worse and--"

Charles quietly shushed Sharon, steering the conversation away from any mention of Brian.

"The MRA moved through Greymalkin so quickly, aiming for the railroad to Atlanta I suspect. There were so many of them, with cannons and horses and thousands and thousands of them. I stood out on the front porch and saw them. I met them on my terms."

Charles felt pride for his mother, at how she had risen to the occasion and stood out like the most protective of alphas, protecting her family. Oh what a sight that must have been!

"They wanted me to leave, for us to leave, for they wanted to burn Westchester down to the ground. But I couldn't have that, I couldn't let them burn Westchester. The girls and Brian were still--"

Charles made an impatient noise. "What happened next?" Charles prompted.

"I told them the truth, that the typhoid fever had spread and had infected everyone inside the house, and it would spell the end of anyone if they were to be moved. And so I said to them that they would be burning the roof down around three dying and helpless omegas and that I would not leave my family, not like this. I would not leave. The young officer was understanding-- a gentlewoman."

"They do not exist in the MRA, Mother!"

Sharon shook her head, adamant. "No, she was a gentlewoman and possessed a good soul. She rode her horse away and came back with her commanding officer, and a surgeon. They looked at the girls and your father--"

"You let them into their rooms?"

"What else could I have done Charles? They had the proper supplies and the tools to save them. We had nothing left and he saved your sisters. Angel was suffering from a haemorrhage, and when he told the captain that they were very ill, the MRA didn't burn Westchester. They all took up residence here, moving in to take up all the available space, the general and his staff. All of the rooms were taken up and they went about their business, except for the sick room," Sharon took in a deep breath, her eyes glazing over in memory. Charles waited calmly, not willing to poke her into saying anything further.

With time, she spoke up again. "And so the armies camped out in our fields, in the orchard and out past the corn. The paddock and the pastures were filled with their little tents. They took all the wood they could find from our barns and the fences and the stables, and then killed all of our animals: our cows, our pigs and the chickens. The night was filled with the smell of cooking meat and there were so many campfires that night. And then, they took everything we had left: most or our utensils and china, some of the furniture--"

Charles swallowed a breath in, fearful for the memory that Sharon had conjured up and was recalling in her mind. The sight of so many little orange flames winking in the night was strangely beautiful. And yet.

"They started the takeover of Greymalkin and New London from here, there were always horses running in and out, men calling at one another. And then when they started using the heavy artillery, the cannons could be heard-- it sounded so loud and the girls-- they were so frightened, even as deluded as they were from sickness, they still heard and they clutched at my hand, asking me to make it stop thundering outside."

"And... did Father ever know? Did he ever know that the MRA had taken over Westchester and was using it as a base?"

"Never. He-- never suspected."

Charles let out a sigh. It was a good thing that Brian was only an empath then. He wouldn't know how Brian would have reacted had he been the one born with telepathy. Thank the gods above that Brian had never known that there had been guns at Greymalkin or knew that the land and animals he had so carefully raised and cherished had been killed by the MRA.

"I didn't see much of the MRA, only the young surgeon I saw the most of for he was in and out of the room making sure the girls and your father were comfortable. And even if he had spent all day tending to the wounds of his fellow comrades, he would always come in and just talk to them. And when the MRA were ready to leave Westchester to advance, he left behind some medicine to take care of the girls. They would recover for they are young, but my beloved Brian- He had been working far too hard as of late and his body couldn't withstand the fever. He admired Brian's courage and strength but told me to prepare-- That the end would come soon--"

Sharon was silent for a long moment, her memories playing at the forefront of her mind that allowed Charles to pick up on it. He saw the tireless way that she worked to keep her family safe and healthy, to be as compliant to the enemy even as she maintained a thin thread of command at Westchester. Charles saw that Sharon had gone without food and sleep, nursing and watching over her beloved even as the girls slept on.

"And when they were ready to go, they left Westchester," Sharon said simply and went quiet after that, holding onto Charles hand for dear life like a lifeline.

"I am glad to have you at Westchester, Charles."

Janos moved through the house quietly, but he had been trained by the Darkholmes to hold very good manners and made sure his footfalls were heavy enough to be recognized as he walked in.

"I have for you some apples and water, Young Master Charles. It is all we have left after we fed everyone."

"Thank you, Janos. I wasn't expecting a feast upon my arrival home. That would be all."

"If only we had some sort of cider left," Sharon said wistfully. "This occasion would have been perfect for the apple whiskey that I had distilled all those years ago."

Charles laughed quietly, bitterly. "Yes, if only. I should like to get drunk enough to not remember this horrible dream."

"Come along, Mother. You must eat. I'm home now and I'll take care of everything so you needn't worry. What I think you need Mother is some food and to recover. Sleep would be best yes." When once Charles had been learning to control his telepathy, he would have given himself away to a non-psionic such as Sharon when he practised. But now, Charles was confident in his abilities, subtle as they were.

Sharon slumped forward a little, as if accepting that she could finally rest, could pass along the duties of protecting Westchester now that Charles had returned. Her body shuddered and threatened to fall over. Hastily, Charles curled an arm around Sharon and pulled her upright

"Janos, could you--?"

Obediently, Janos looped his arm around Sharon's other side, and then the three of them walked, shuffled, into the dark hall and up the great winding staircase up into Sharon's room.

It was also the room where Angel and Anna-Marie had taken residence, asleep as they were upon the same bed. They tossed and turned, mumbling incoherently as their dreams chased after them. The room reeked from sweat, for the windows were closed tight allowing no fresh air in, and was filled with odours associated with the sick and the medicine used to treat them, such smells that Charles had expected from the hospitals back at New London rather than in his mother's room. Quickly, Charles opened the windows in succession, for air flow was important and he never trusted what other doctors had to say when they all pretended that fresh air would be fatal to the weak and sick patients. The scent of the dogwoods and earth came in like a bright reprieve, but it would do little to dispel the thick layers that had spent several weeks accumulating.

Anna-Marie and Angel seemed like they had grown much. Their skins were pale and pasty. He doesn't recognize them at all and preferred them when they had been annoying little sisters to him. Facing one of the windows to the side was the large bed where his parents had once slept in together. It was a large four poster thing, hand carved and meticulously put together by Sharon as a surprise present for Brian.

Between Janos and Charles, they deposited Sharon on the bed and Charles quietly told her to go to sleep. They quietly left them to their rest, for there was nothing Charles could do to help his sisters yet.

Outside their room, Charles collapsed into the nearest chair. His feet ached and there were undoubtedly blisters growing upon the soles of his feet. He doubted they would disappear any time soon, for there were several days up ahead that required his total attention and for him to be on his feet all the time.

He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of rhythmic creaking noise coming from the outside, like someone was pulling upon the ropes to get to the water in the well, or perhaps it was the ghost that he had once convinced Angel and Anna-Marie that existed down there.

"That would be Moira getting the water to help sponge off Mr. Darkholme," Janos explained quietly as he peered out of the window. Charles laughed to himself, shaking his head to clear his heads of such thoughts that made the soft hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end. They watched as Moira finished filling the basin, climbing up the stairs stealthily. She looked tired, a cultivated air of weariness that accompanied the said gleam in her brown eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, where it would have once been neat as befitting by the Head of all of the servingfolk in Westchester.

"Mr. Charles!" Moira exclaimed loudly, a surprised gasp rushing past her lips. "Oh, Charles. You hare finally come home to me. We have so dearly missed you. Whatever shall we do now that Mr. Brian is now lying down there and we have nothing to look forward to?"

Charles gathered Moira into his arms and hugged. "Don't you say such things. There is always something to look forward to, you're just not seeing far ahead enough." Now that he was finally home in Westchester, he wouldn't come to regret that decision. There was much to be done and this was his family. And family was all he had left now that the war had taken everything else from him.

"Mr. Charles! You-- look at how rough your hands have become! And after all my hardwork in making sure they would stay smooth. No gentleomega should have hands such as this-- And oh you are as red as an apple, look at all that sunburnt upon your nose and your ears."

Moira tsked and tutted over every little scrape and Charles couldn't help but chuckle to himself. How very like her to miss the very fact that the war had meant so many deaths to the people that they knew.

"Moira. I want you to tell me everything that has happened to Father. Mother-- It is best that I hear it from someone else that is not her."

Moira's eyes started to tear up and she quickly moved into Hank's room, Charles following after her.

"Charles," Hank whispered, his eyes lighting up as he nursed the little one.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Darkholme?" Moira asked kindly as she set the buckets by his bedside. Hank had changed out of his clothes and was modestly left in only a pair of white cotton pants that served as his night clothes. She pulled out a cloth that looked curiously like the remains of an apron, and wet it generously.

"Well, thank you. This is very kind of you, Moira." Everyone smiled, acknowledging the lie for what it was.

Charles was curious and although it would seem improper to talk about his father's death in Hank's presence, he couldn't wait any longer.

"Brian was called out to help a small family of betas on the Worthington property. They were sick with the fever. And oh, Brian, he must have caught it," Moira explained as she cleaned and wiped at Hank's matted fur as best as she could. It was still a welcome reprieve to the wagon with the sun shining down upon them all.

"You know how Mr. Brian gets when he is off discovering one thing or another, he missed meals and would only drink a cup or two of ale a day. And all the plates I set in front of him were barely touched. I told him again and again that he must eat, but he would always say later. And eventually, the fever spread from that family until Miss Angel caught in and then Miss Anna-Marie had it too. Mr. Brian tried to heal them, but he too ended up catching it himself."

Moira shook her head as she wrung out the cloth and alternated between washing and combing out the knots in Hank's fur. "And even if he was too sickly to move, Mr. Brian took a carriage down to check on that family. It worried all of us when he returned as white as a sheet. I was fine, for I have had the typhoid all those many years ago as a child." Moira paused to wipe away her tears with the corner of her apron. Hank and Charles exchanged a glance, but there was nothing they could do except to remain quiet and give her reassuring pats on the back of her hand.

"There was nothing that the MRA doctor could do for him, he was already too far gone. Mr. Brian was already too delirious most of the time that he hardly recognized us. But he went peacefully, a smile on his face."

Charles slept fitfully that night, but was glad to have something better than several planks of wood underneath him. So tired he had been that he could not undress himself as soon as his head hit the pillows that Moira had to come in and do it for him, gently tugging away at his shirt and his pants until he was underneath cool sheets.

Come morning, he had Janos take down one of Sharon's older saddles and had one of the horses ready. His scouting mission had been fruitful, for Charles found a lost cow wandering the back paddock and that his potatoes had been left untouched by the MRA. There was also apples growing in the orchard, which would sustain them for some time.

Charles rode to the top of the ridge and looked out towards the orchard, now his orchard. This was Westchester. This was his home and he would defend it until his last breath. There was the neat little rows of apple trees, his favourite reading spot, the dogwoods and the vegetable patch that needed attention. There was the river curling lazily through Greymalkin that lead to beyond and the white house that stood proudly.

He was the eldest omega in his family and he had responsibilities now that his father had passed away. There were plans to be made, a household to run, crops to be harvested and replanted, a cow and two horses to look after, endless small jobs that Charles had to learn to delegate. But it would be worth it. Westchester was worth it, was worth fighting for, and Charles was going to be damned if he doesn't hold Westchester to the very best of his capabilities. And if anyone dared to take it away from him, he wouldn't hesitate to tear them limb to limb.

 

The funeral for Brian Xavier was solemn, a grave that Alex had helpfully dug alongside Charles near the patch of white lilies that Brian had loved and cherished. He would be happy there, Sharon said quietly through her tears.

 

 

 

 

* * *

  
_Charles choked back a sob and leaned up to press their lips together. Erik had promised him once upon a time that Charles ought to be kissed and kissed by someone that knew how to. The way Erik moved his lips over Charles', slowly and thoroughly claiming, as if he had nothing better to do than to kiss Charles all night long. If only. Erik had definitely kept his word, for he had never been kissed like this ever. None of the shy little chaste teasing kisses from Charles' youth could measure up to this, the way his skin crawled and felt suddenly two sizes too small and simultaneously two sizes too big._


	5. Chapter 5

The first few days were the most difficult to get through, but Charles took it one day at a time. He had hoped that Sharon would have given him more guidance and been more help in taking charge as an alpha ought to have done. But he knew now that was not going to be true, for she was lost without Brian, like a buoy floating aimlessly and lost at sea. Sharon was different now, and Charles knew that she would spend the rest of her days seated on the front porch, waiting, always waiting for Brian to come home.

Charles knew that despite his inexperience at running an apple orchard, he was their best chance at survival. He had come to rely upon Alex when they both rode out to see what the land could provide for them day in, day out.

Their first cow had been a welcome reprieve, and their spirits were enlightened. Charles felt no remorse when they took to looking through the ruins of their neighbours for other means to aid their survival. Greymalkin was an example of what the MRA had done to Genosha: a country riddled by cannons and bullets that was devoid of life, blanketed by desolation and silence. Charles knew that in time the wildlife would return, but no one knew when that could be.

Alex and Charles would return as the sun began to set, saddle sore, and with small pieces that they have scavenged here and there. Blisters and callouses had begun to form on their feet, for they weren't equipped with any riding jodphurs or boots for that matter. They had discovered a small family of pigs just beyond the property that had once belonged to the Wilsons, and over a meagre dinner of potatoes and apples, Charles began to plan on how best to herd the pigs back to Westchester.

Winter was just around the corner and the animals would need to be cared for and tended to. But would the animals all be eaten before the season turned into spring before they even had a chance to reproduce?

It was a small blessing when they managed to find some seed in amongst the rubble, at least they could begin replanting by then. But that didn't mean anything when it came to the hunger they were currently facing. Charles had quietly gone through Sharon's moneybox and found bonds and bills, but with the MRA's victory, it meant that the old Genoshan bill would be worth relatively very little.

Charles sat upon the fence, the mare Erik had stolen for them grazing at his side. He looked up at the sky, squinting as he tried to make animals out of the clouds that raced past. The sound of hooves trotting broke into his thoughts and Charles looked out in alarm. There was a horse coming up along the path, stirring up dust with each step, and atop it was someone dressed in MRA uniform.

He was immediately alert and slunk off the fence, fluid like a cat. Charles felt no remorse as he dove into the man's head, taking in all the little details about him: unpowered, lonely with no family to speak of, unimpressive baseline. His thoughts were no good at all and he had seen Westchester, and was in fact making a beeline for it. The man was hoping for something, was imagining women inside the halls. The MRA may have won, but the armies weren't seeing an immediate results amongst the ranks just yet and this man was ravenous.

Forget, forget forget, forget about the MRA, Charles' telepathy whispered in the man's ear. They would need workers at Westchester, not corpses, and this man-- yes, this man would do perfectly. Work for me, work for the Xaviers. Charles tore at the man's memories, shaping them into his will, and felt satisfied when the man followed him obediently back to Westchester, happy and willing to work in the orchards and provide another helping hand.

Yes, Charles thought triumphantly, there would be no need for extra bloodshed. He could fill the old servingfolk's quarters with new ones, able-bodied soldiers that didn't know better. No one would question where this man came from, he could easily explain it away as an MRA deserter. Anything that Charles could find in the pockets and the bags of that man was now property of the Xavier household and would go towards feeding and clothing everyone in it.

Hank was seated outside in the shade when with Leon upon his hip when Charles and the man arrive. His eyes widened, recognizing the uniform that the man was wearing.

"Charles! Are you okay? What are you doing with this man?" Hank asked, distress in his voice. Leon, having picked up on that, began to snivel and wail.

"He's called--" Charles swept through the man's head until he found a name, "Cameron. Cameron Hodge. He deserted the MRA and was coming to hurt us, wanted to very not nice things to-- Anyway, he's-- He'll be working for us now."

"Charles... did you do all this with your telepathy?"

Charles wondered if Hank was going to take the moral high ground here. It was wrong, yes, to take away this man's freedom, but surely it was a better alternative than to have killed this man?

"I'm not going to say that what you did is a bad thing. Frankly, we need all the help that we can get. It might be an idea to get him out of his uniform before the others come back, perhaps only just his uniform jacket since we don't have any extra pants. We can get rid of the evidence by burning it in the kitchen fires."

Charles blinked, a little in awe, and surprised at what Hank was suggesting.

"We should go through his pockets before we burn it though," Hank added as an afterthought, looking thoughtfully at Cameron and the saddlebags that lay over the horse's back.

"Here, set Leon down--" Charles said, pulling the saddlebags off the horse and handed it over to Hank where he was standing. "And look through them and I'll go through his pockets. Cameron, take off your coat and give it to me." He emphasized the order with a mental push to obey; he would have to experiment later on how best to deal with making Cameron forget he ever was a part of the MRA.

Cameron wordlessly took off his coat and placed the jacket in Charles' outstretched hand. Charles systematically went through the pockets. There was something weighty, heavy in the large right pocket and Charles went for it first, gasping when he pulled out what appeared to be a wallet, wrapped in some linen bandages.

"Hank! My word-- Is this--" Charles opened it and felt his jaw hung open. Hank stepped down and took a seat upon the topmost step, pressing his face closer.

"Open it!"

Charles' hand were trembling when he unwrapped the bandages and opened the wallet to reveal a large stack of the new Genoshan dollar, and a handful of the older Genoshan bills hidden amongst it. "Hank--" There was more than enough there to feed everyone for a very long time. They wouldn't starve!

"This money-- We won't have to starve during winter."

Hank nodded and then looked up quickly towards the horizon. "We better hurry. Quick, look through the pockets of his trousers."

Charles stuffed the wallet into his own pocket and beckoned for Cameron to empty them himself. He found the a stub of a candle, a ball of twine and laughed when the man revealed a a small package of hardtack biscuits.

"Charles! Come look." Charles looked up and felt his eyes widen when he realized what Cameron had been hiding in his saddlebags all along. It was the loot of a thief: there were jewels fashioned into pendants, diamond eardrops, bracelets and chains made of gold. There was wealth in there that Charles hadn't seen in a very long time.

"Where do you suppose he was trying to go?"

"Likely to try and steal from another house. Maybe we were his next target." Charles squints up at Cameron, gauging whether the man would still act upon that impulse. "He won't be stealing again, that's for certain."

"What are you going to do to him?" Hank asked. There wasn't any fear in his voice, however, it was a very valid and logical question. One that Charles only had a working answer for.

"Do you have any ideas on how best to explain his sudden arrival?"

"Nobody would believe that he wanted to return to being the help. We can explain away that the horse wandered in. As for the man--" Hank paused, looking warily at Cameron. "You can use your telepathy to plant false memories, right? No one would question it if Cameron happened to be one of the servingfolk that used to work for my family, perhaps my Uncle George's butler. Would that work? How much time do you need?"

Charles sat down on the chair upon the porch and rubbed his temples. He'd never wilfully changed someone's memory, but for the good of Westchester and to protect his family, Charles would do it. "The horse walked in with the money and the jewellery. I found it wandering out the back. Cameron walked down the drive looking for water when he came upon you were seated on the porch with Leon, that so much is the truth. Cameron had a soft spot for you, and agreed to stay in exchange for food and shelter."

"Nothing like twisting the truth a little," Hank said, a sly but wry smile on his face. "No one would suspect the truth."

And no one did. In fact, the horse and Cameron's extra pair of helping hands were received with great cheer, adding to a successful day out as Sharon lead the procession of their four captured pigs to their new home. Hank and Charles exchanged a long glance over dinner, but no one noticed it amongst their celebrations.

 

Charles had been surprised by Hank's increased interest in how to maintain an apple orchard, and whilst he had been reluctant to share Brian's research at first, it was obvious that Hank's mind was a beautiful thing.

"I'm too weak right now to help you with harvesting the apples," he said quietly, rocking a sleeping Leon in his arms, "but I can at least try to keep your Father's research going. It hardly seems fair to let it all just go to waste like that. And as you are far too busy still grasping how to run an orchard like this, the least I could do is to help in this way. That is if you would allow me the honour of continuing your Father's research."

Charles sighed softly, a small fond smile growing almost reluctantly on his face. Hank meant well and it would serve him best to keep his mind active where his body could not keep up. And if Hank managed to make heads or tails of Brian's chicken scratch writing, then more power to him.

"Let me help you get the rest of the volumes. You've got plenty of reading to do. But don't you go and overexert yourself on me, Hank."

Hank smiled, reassuring Charles that he wouldn't and then sat down to begin reading. A week later, Hank managed to make his first batch of apple butter using what little ingredients they had; the kitchen smelt strongly of apples thereafter.

And then a week after that, Janos came in with one of Hank's newly improvised animal traps, a chicken furiously calling for freedom. And to have eggs again! That would add variety in their potato and apple dominated diet; Charles had never been so glad to know Hank as he was after taking his first bite of scrambled egg.

 

It was autumn, and the weather turned steadily chillier with each passing day. The green apples towards the back pasture were ready to be picked, but Charles' taskforce was a far cry from the old days when there were over a hundred servingfolk helping out. Now all Charles had at his disposal was himself, his two sisters, the Summers brothers and four servingfolk. He couldn't very well ask Hank to help if he could help it. It would have been even better had they all not put up such a fuss about working in the sun.

Anna-Marie was still annoyed at Charles for some reason or another. "Please don't be angry at her," Angel said, placing a hand on Charles' forearm as they both watched Anna-Marie flounce into another room. "She has still yet to be properly recovered. I'll do my share of work in her stead." Charles nodded curtly once and then headed out the front door where the rest of them waited.

Sharon was sat astride one of the horses, and the other two were hitched to the wagon. Having Janos was a blessing, Charles found, for his mutation rustled the leaves and gently eased the best apples from their branches. And with winter coming quickly, they would need to prepare all that they could in the coming weeks to best survive. There wouldn't be a shortage of apple related products, that was for certain.

Perhaps by the coming spring, Charles could plant new crops. That thought brought a smile to his face as he pushed his bangs off his face, looking at the sight of the two animals making their way on their trail. Next spring felt very far away, but Charles hoped that the war would be over, well and truly, and then things would hopefully become better, easing into normalcy. It doesn't matter whether the Brotherhood won or lost, Charles thought, it was easier to live without the constant threat of raids and thieves by either army upon the battlefield that was Greymalkin.

The war, after all, couldn't be fought forever. There would be a time when people would return to their homesteads. And then, Charles would have an already established farm. He had a small supply of food and enough animals to breed and eat their offspring when they grew up, and horses to ride into town, for there was the money and jewellery from Cameron that was now theirs, his.

Of course, that was all wishful thinking, for the day after the MRA began marching from New London, through Greymalkin and out towards Hammer Bay, likely before winter set in, killing everything with cold and damp and frost. Charles quickly arranged for all of the animals and horses off to the back pasture. He wasn't going to lose everything he had worked so hard for just because some score of MRA men were setting alight everything in Greymalkin for good sport.

"Will you be alright by yourself?" Hank asked fearfully, looking at him with wide eyes as he held Leon to his chest. Charles was thankful that the baby was at least a quiet one. Angel and Anna-Marie had settled in on the back of the wagon, looking like frightened little lambs.

"I won't let anything happen to me," Charles said quietly, taking the wallet out of his pockets and handing it over to Hank. "But in case something does, take this and hide it well. I will do my best to dissuade them from coming in. There is a shack that you can hide in for the time being. Now go!"

There wasn't much that they could take upon horseback. Human lives were far more important after all and what they lost could always be attained once more with more effort and time. Charles watched as his family shuffled away from the house.

He wasn't afraid of dying after having gone through New London and the infernos; Charles wasn't keen on experiencing that ever again. There were forty or so men on an assortment of horses and wagons, armed to the teeth with guns and bayonets.

He was shivering, Charles noted casually, looking at his hand curiously as it shook from nerves. Adrenaline pumping through his body as the men marched down the road towards Hammer Bay, a giant mass of grey shuffling and churning up dust.

Don't look this way, don't set anything on fire, don't notice Westchester, Charles whispered into their minds, just march, march on and leave Genosha alone; he didn't think his heart would ever remember how to beat at a regular rhythm, not even until the last of the soldiers disappeared as far as his eye could see and further away from the reaches of his telepathy. They were safe, or as safe as anyone could be, now that the MRA had passed through Greymalkin.

 

Winter settled in quickly on cold winds that brought in frost and chill. The cold winds made Westchester seem cold, a draft making its way inside that always made Charles' toes curl inside his boots. The windowpanes rattled ominously during the night and outside, every tree had lost their leaves. Westchester was no longer painted in reds, instead dark shadows made themselves known upon the white snow.

There was little Charles could have done to save some of the houses that had burnt to the ground. He had ridden out to find most of the neighbourhood that had been left razed to the ground, leaving behind it giant black ruins that loomed like silent departed guardians.

Winter was the worst, for food was quickly eaten, shared amongst so many mouths that made everyone constantly hungry. On the better days, Janos and Gabe would return with fresh fish, but now those days were further and farther in between.

Janos and Gabe foraged as far as they could find, and often they returned home with items that no one tried to question. For there were days when Janos and Gabe would return with corn and peas, and others with fresh eggs. The days were tough and there was a sense of guilt whenever a larger fortuitous find was served upon their table. There was little else to eat but apple preserves for the rest of the winter.

It was well into mid-winter when a small troop walked up the drive of Westchester, Sebastian Shaw at the helm. They were, like all others, looking for food to feed the army. Their horses were skin and bones as were the alphafolk that rode them, their uniforms ragged and fraying at the seams and appearing more like a band of outlaws than members of the Brotherhood.

All of them with the exception of Sebastian had some body part missing. They were all wearing coats in the colour of the MRA grey.

The alphafolk were all welcome to stay inside the house, and they all crowded themselves into the floor of the living room upon the soft rug in front of the hearth. It had been several weeks since they had last slept on anything softer than the ground. And despite their unkempt state, they were a cheerful bunch, well-bred, and filled with compliments and pleasant small talk.

Christmas was around the corner and the alphafolk jested that they were glad to at least have this very memory to tide them over. It was better to spend the night in the company of such beautiful omegafolk in a wonderful warm home such as Westchester, all compliments that had Charles beaming with pride. The company, however, would refuse to speak of the war, instead turning to exaggerations in order to downplay how serious it must have been.

"Oh, Charles. This is nice, isn't it? Almost like old times when we would hold parties," Angel whispered nostalgically, seated as she was against Charles' side. Charles raised an eyebrow, turning towards his youngest adoptive sister, noting the flush on her cheeks and the looks she was giving Sebastian Shaw. Well, Charles supposed, Sebastian Shaw was as good as any other alpha if Angel were to covet a husband of her own.

Hank had surprise them all when during dinner, he had laughed and joked along with Charles' sisters, doing everything within his power to ensure that the alphafolk enjoyed their pretend Christmas. Charles kept an extra careful eye on Hank, in case he over exhausted himself. Despite how well Hank insisted he was, he had recently caught a cold that drained all the energy out of him quickly at any given moment.

Charles was not completely cruel and there was enough dried apple chips for them to take for the army. An army that Charles didn't care much for: it was the army's prerogative to feed the army especially when it was uncertain whether his own could last through the winter as it were.

He turned to Sebastian for any news of Aunt Letty, the question was there on the tip of his tongue, only dying upon his lips when he saw the expression on Sebastian's face.

There was something akin to nostalgia on Sebastian's face. The way his eyes roamed around the room, from person to person, item to item. Was Sebastian reminiscing about the days before war had taken over Genosha.

Sebastian would have seen many different sights on the way towards Westchester, especially if he rode through New London. Westchester was a shadow of its former glory, without the house servingfolk or the MRA making the plantation its base. The people that inhabited now were as jaded as the house looked, clothes that were fraying at the hem and tattered, the colours bleached away from the many hours spent in the sun.

Who was Sebastian to judge them? Charles thought furiously, eyes narrowing. They had done their best to get by, they were all still here in one piece more or less. Sebastian looked up and then quickly averted his glance at the quiet defiance and pride that was blazing in Charles' eyes.

"Have you any news?"

Everyone wanted to hear the latest. It was difficult to tell the passing of time now that no one was delivering the newspaper on a daily basis. And without any couriers and persons riding out from New London, it was impossible to know how old acquaintances had fared in the aftermath. And it had been so many months since Westchester had seen a friendly face.

"The Brotherhood had managed to retake New London, but it is of little use. Most of the town had been burnt to the ground," Sebastian reported.

"And what of the townspeople, my patients?" Charles demanded. "Have they been--"

"Oh heaven's no. Stryker killed only those that truly got in his way. No, he told the Mayor that he was taking New London for his troops. Anyone that was left still in their houses would be immediately executed. Most of the townspeople packed what they could and left. The townsfolk that were too weak or ill, well, they didn't make it through the night. Many of them fell sick with pneumonia, no shelter out there you see, and plenty of the omegafolk that were with child--"

"Please, enough," cried Hank, feeling awfully ill at the news, his eyes misty. Hank had been born and grew up in New London, Charles knew. He could relate for he had fallen in love with the town that had quickly become his second home.

Sebastian cleared his throat. "Stryker moved on quickly after and the town had been burnt thereafter. But not everything was burnt. I believe your Aunt Letty's house is still standing!"

"It is?" Hank asked, his eyes shiny.

"It is. The slate roof and the brickwork saved it from a fiery fate. I can't say much for the inside however, but it shouldn't be too difficult to fix."

"Have you seen my aunt?"

"Aunt Letty? Why yes, I saw her last week when I was visiting Newcastle--" The news immediately cheered Hank up.

"Please sir, tell me how she is?"

Sebastian smiled. "She's doing just fine. When I let her know that her house was still intact, she was immediately telling her-- Lucas was that his name?-- he was being told to back up her things or she immediately wanted to return home. A lot of the townsfolk have already returned to New London."

Angel gasped next to Charles, her hand placed politely over her lips. "But where would they live?"

"Why, Miss Angel, they make do. They have tents, and shacks and in some of the houses that are still standing, they are often families all living in one room. They're doing their best to rebuild with what they can find. Most of them are making do with wood for now, but a lot of them have seen the wise ways of your aunt and are considering using brick."

Hank looked proud. "I'm glad. It is difficult to break the spirits of New Londoners. Don't you agree, Charles?"

"I do," Charles said with a grim smile. He was a little like New London in that regard. It took more than flames and the MRA to break his spirit, and New London would arise from the flames once more like a phoenix. Bigger and better than ever, he was certain of it.

"If Aunt Letty is thinking of returning, then perhaps we ought to consider it also, Charles?" Hank asked.

"I can't, Hank. I have to stay here at Westchester. You are free to return, of course."

"Oh. Of course. I'm sorry, that was terribly thoughtless of me to say," Hank murmured. "You know I could never leave you. I-- I'm just not sure what to do without you with me, Charles." He turned back to Sebastian. "Please, sir, has there been any news of Raven?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Hank. You know had I any word of her whereabouts, you would be the first person to know. I would have ridden my way up here from wherever just to find you," Sebastian vowed. "But she could be better off, she could be alive. The MRA have plenty of food and enough supplies. I'm afraid the MRA prisoners have suffered at our hand."

Hank shook his head vehemently. "The MRA have enough, but do they give anything to the Brotherhood. You know that the captured alphafolk are freezing to their deaths, starving too, or have caught a number of illnesses that cannot be cured without proper treatment. Would the MRA really treat those? Of course they wouldn't! Oh Raven--"

"How about we sing some Christmas Carols?" Angel interjected, smiling sweetly at Sebastian. Charles doubted she could have been any less obvious. "I'll sing whatever pleases you, Mr. Shaw. The piano is still in the piano room. Anna-Marie, is it still out of tune."

"Probably," Anna-Marie replied with a shrug of her shoulders. It wouldn't stop her from trying to play it.

Everyone stood up, shuffling quietly out in single file. Sebastian stopped and turned to Charles. "A word, please?"

Charles froze on the spot, wondering if it would be required of him to tell a little white lie about the animals under his care. They were still up by the far paddock, but it would be fine if the Brotherhood left the way they had came. He scrutinized Sebastian's face in the low firelight. His face was pale, drawn out with dried tanned skin where it once would have been smooth. He looked old with several days scruff growing upon his chin, a streak of grey running along one side of his jaw.

"Your father--" Sebastian began, awkwardly. "I am sorry, Mr. Charles."

"Please do not--"

"And your mother-- Has she been like that ever since--?"

"Yes.  I-- She is not herself."

Sebastian frowned. "I see. I had been wondering about something, a proposal for your mother if you will. But perhaps it won't be-"

"Please, you can tell me, Mr. Shaw. I will do my utmost to help you if it is within my power, for I am now the head of this household despite my... omega status."

"Well," Sebastian drawled, scratching at the beard on his chin, "I had been wondering about asking for Miss Angel's hand in marriage."

"Are you meant to tell me that you haven't asked for her yet?" Charles asked in amazement. "You've been courting her for ages!"

"I... well. I am so much older than she is and I am uncertain whether she would have me, not when there have been so many younger alphas buzzing about Westchester. But I would like to be truthful. I don't have anything except the horse that I ride and the clothes on my back. And without any money to my name, I can't ask for Miss Angel's hand in marriage. Not just yet, for I wouldn't ask to marry her without knowing I can provide for her. But it would mean the world to me if we were at least engaged. It would help me get through the endless, sleepless nights out in the cold, knowing that she would be waiting for me, even if the end is nigh."

"This matter is all but settled," Charles said with a kind smile. "For Mother always expected Angel to marry you."

"Really?" Sebastian asked, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"Indeed."

"Then I shall ask her on this very night. Thank you, Mr. Charles," Sebastian declared, clutching both of his hands and giving it a warm squeeze.

"I'll go fetch her then." Charles turned towards the adjacent piano room, where he could see Hank was leading everyone in a rendition of 'We Three Kings' and Anna-Marie was playing the sadly untuned piano. Angel's melodious soprano mingled well, harmonizing with the other female alphas and the lower registers of the male ones.

Charles paused. Sebastian's words had irked him. "Mr. Shaw, what did you mean by the end is nigh?"

Sebastian looked startled for a moment and then said in a low voice, "I know I can be blunt with you on this matter, Mr. Charles. We are running out of people to supply the ranks of the Brotherhood. There are alphas deserting the Brotherhood because they know they are now fighting a war that they can't win, and they know their families are at home starving. There isn't any food and I know you have been feeling that very keenly. The supplies are gone, we have no ammunition... the Brotherhood has all but lost the war."

Charles patted the back of Sebastian's hand. "Let us not talk of such unpleasant matters, Mr. Shaw. For you have something to say to my little sister, yes? Why don't you head towards my Father's office for some privacy, you know the one, and I shall send Angel to you."

Sebastian nodded once, smiling and blushing, and then walked out of the room. Charles watched his back disappear into the darkness and turned back towards the carol singers.

'If only he could have taken Angel with him now. It would be one less person to feed,' Charles thought.

 

The war was over three months later in the pleasant months of spring, only Westchester didn't receive that news until several weeks later. It was all hands on deck at Westchester and no one was spared when it came to harvesting the apples.

Charles was busy spearheading the entire operation, ensuring everything happened in a timely fashion. Hank and Moira were responsible for cooking and preserving what crops they could find, with the apples coming in crate after crate. Janos was the main force behind the harvesting with the assistance of Angel and Anne-Marie. Gabe and Alex were both given the task of plowing the fields enough to plant the seeds that they had scavenged. And Cameron had been sent to Newcastle to purchase any seeds and food he could find; Charles had been pleased by his purchases, even more so when Cameron returned with leftover money right down to the very cent.

There was always work, a never ending list of work that had to be completed on Westchester. The horses were all unaccustomed to the plow, unlike the sure old barrel-chested Clydesdale that had been sure of foot and sweet of temperament. There were weeds that had to be pulled, seeds that required planting, firewood that needed chopping, and an ongoing plethora of repair work that the MRA had so casually gotten rid of in the matter of hours using fire.

And people started returning. There was the Pryde twins, looking worse for the wear with a variety of bandages wrapped around their limbs but very eager to return home. They paused in Westchester long enough for a drink and a crunchy apple, telling Charles that they war was over and the Brotherhood had surrendered. Cassie, who wasn't wearing any shoes, was seated upon the back of a mule and her sister, Chloe, walked for she still had boots. Both of them were tanned beyond recognition.

They hadn't wanted to talk about the war at all, finished business, they had proclaimed in unison. When the mule had drunk its fill, they proceeded back down the drive, onwards home.

After the twins had gone, Charles found Angel and Anna-Marie curled up upon the couch with Alex's arm curled upon their shoulders. The girls were snivelling quietly. It was over, they said. The Cause had taken all of their friends, their lovers, their dreams, and it had been all for naught. The Cause they had believed in so ardently was now shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

Charles was relieved, though by the news. For they had spent so many months living like thieves. He wouldn't have to listen to the sound of hooves beating upon the ground and question whether it was friend or foe. Westchester was safe, as were the people that lived in it. And that was all that mattered to Charles.

Peace. Peace was always an option. It was the better option and now that it was upon them, Charles felt like he was walking in a dream. The reality would require time to sink in. If Raven was still alive out there, it would mean that she would be returning home soon!

The months passed and the people returned in large groups, bringing along with them news from here and there. However, there was never any news of Raven.

 

Alex and Gabe had been a part of his family for so long that it had surprised Charles when Katherine Summers came calling upon them, when she returned.

"Oh my darling boys," Katherine said as she kissed and cried and kissed them some more. Gabe clung to her and Alex looked almost flummoxed, but immediately melted into his mother's embrace.

Some time later, after they had all calmed down, they all sat around the table with some apple juice and dried apple rings. "Oh, whatever shall I do with myself now? All of my beautiful horses are gone. If only I had my old girl with me. Why she was the sweetest mare." At least she still had her dogs, for they wondered throughout the yard in a giant mass of tan and black and white, the sight of which sent a pang through Charles' heart for his beloved Professor.

"Thank you for looking after my boys for me," Katherine said when the hour became late. "I notice that you haven't got your dog with you...?"

"He-- he lived to a fine age and passed in New London."

"Ah. He was a wonderful dog, Charles. One of the girls gave birth a few months back and the pups are ready to be separated from their mother. Perhaps there is room at Westchester for another? One for each of your sisters and Mr. Hank also? As thanks for looking after "

"We would be delighted to look after them, yes. It would give my sisters something to look forward to."

Charles watched from the porch, a black puppy with brown eyes in his lap, as the girls spent the entire afternoon picking and choosing.

By the time the Summers were to leave, Charles pulled Katherine to one side. "I-- I know it isn't much but perhaps you could restart with the horses I have in my paddock?" Charles suggested. They would never compare to the horses that Katherine had bred specifically, but it was a good starting point as any.

"You are a sweet omega, Charles," she said, bending over to place a kiss on his forehead. "Thank you for the offer. I shall perhaps take you up on that one of these days."

Alex and Gabe hugged everyone tightly, thanking Charles for looking after them. They left with a promise of visiting very soon, Katherine's wagon laden with a crate of fresh apples and some of the dried apple rings, and Charles watched as they plodded away from Westchester.

 

Greymalkin was stirring with life once more, for many months after the surrender, the Brotherhood soldiers were finally returning home. The railroad had been repaired and day by day soldiers were being pumped into New London, where they would then travel by foot back home. There were a few fortunate ones who rode skinny animals, but it was obvious to anyone that the soldiers that sat astride them would not get very far, or so the soldiers that passed Westchester told Charles.

In their minds, they moved with a singular focus of returning home. Home where their families were. Their wound did not cause them any pain, for they travelled with a single dogged determination of going home.

Westchester provided weary travellers with water and well needed sustenance. The soldiers came in all shapes and size, their ages ranging from the old to the young, all with their own stories and families and past lives on hold, waiting for them. The years of rationing - a far kinder word for starvation - and the ills that the war had forced upon them, lice and dysentery, had been experienced by almost all that came to rest at Westchester.

Moira was staunchly stringent about the hygiene of all the lice-ridden soldiers that stayed at Westchester, sending them all to scrub down thoroughly with a bar of strong soap while she relieved them of their clothes, their uniforms and threw everything into her large boiling point. Angel and Anna-Marie giggled from their perch, eyeing the naked soldiers that were hidden behind makeshift shower stalls or wrapped up in quilts and towels to protect their modesty.

As more and more soldiers arrived, Westchester struggled to cope with where to put everyone as Moira forbade anyone from setting foot in the upstairs bedrooms from the fear that one little bug had escaped her notice.

Charles converted the downstairs parlour for the convalescent soldiers to recuperate and rest in, transforming it in the likeness of the wards of New London. Once the soldiers were recuperated enough, they left with their thanks for they had nothing to give in return. Some stayed to do a little work picking apples and preparing them for packaging. They would leave with a small smile and then return on their journey onwards forever onwards, past the river and over the hills towards home. Always home.

This went on for several months to no one's surprise until one day Charles spotted Scott Summers making his way down the long drive, his Brotherhood uniform barely recognizable.

"Home!" Scott croaked, collapsing into Janos' arms once he managed to make it to the front steps.

Charles was busy tending to another soldier when Sean burst in with a loud cry of "Mr. Charles! Quick, you must come to the front hall! It's Mr. Summers! Mr. Scott Summers!"

Angel was there, holding onto the cup from which Scott was noisily drinking from, water dribbling over his chin in his haste. How long had Scott taken to reach Westchester? He still possessed a pair of boots, but there was no telling how quickly his gait was.

"Sean!" Charles barked out, "take a horse and send word to the Summers. Quickly now." Sean needn't be told twice and scurried away to the stables. With Sean galloping away, Charles sat down by Scott's side and began examining the gaunt man for any injuries.

"Mr. Hank?" Scott said hoarsely, coughing a little to push the syllables past his mouth.

"Yes?" came the timid reply as Hank stepped forward towards Scott.

"I-- I have a letter here, addressed to you."

"To me?" Hank asked, blinking in surprise. Scott slowly undid the buttons of his jacket, as if he had all but forgotten how to use  and pulled out an envelope, dirty and worn and creased, as though it had passed through many hands before it found itself in Scott's possession.

"It came from a fellow who had been released from Castle Rock on horseback. I was heading back to New London-- It's from Raven." Gasps slipped from two pairs of open mouths and Hank accepted the proffered letter with shaky fingers.

The letter was crushed against Hank's vest, held reverently against his chest. "I-- I knew she was alive all along. I never gave up hope," Hank announced tearfully and then ripped the envelope open, his eyes scanning the words on the page. A moment later, the paper fluttered to the ground as Hank fainted. Everyone was abuzz with movement and words were being shouted to move Hank quickly inside where the couches was and to move Scott along for some food, abandoning Charles in the front hall to pick up the forgotten fallen letter.

The envelope was addressed to: "Mr. Raven Reginald Darkholme, Darkholme Estate, Greymalkin OR Cambridge Road, New London." Moira would have been in conniptions to see Charles handling the envelope with his bare hands but it was the message inside that mattered to him.

It was a short read, "To my dearest beloved, wait for me. I'm coming home to you."

Charles heart swelled two sizes bigger. She was coming home to him! And he collapsed onto his knees and wept quietly to himself, holding the piece of paper to his chest.

There was no telling how long it would take for Raven to return to Greymalkin, and with her having been imprisoned for so long, Charles knew objectively that it would take quite some time for she was unlikely to have the strength to transform into someone with wings - and could she even fly was another matter entirely.

Scott was home now with his family on their way to take him home. And now with this news, Raven, alive!, this was something to look forward to.

'Dearest beloved, wait for me,' Charles' mind whispered, his heart fluttering at the sound of it even if he doesn't feel the shape of the syllables upon his tongue.

 

Of the soldiers that came to stay at Westchester, some made it their final resting place. Each sick alpha was another person that required looking after, another mouth to feed and another source of traumatic memories.

 

Remy Lebeau fought on the front lines, had watched as the flames consumed New London and crawled his way into the nearest house for food and shelter. He had nowhere else to go, no family, and a life that he would much rather forget about; Remy had come to stay indefinitely at Westchester. Remy was a curious figure with an even curiouser European accent, that he never failed to use upon the omegas. But even despite his flirtatious nature, he was a gentlealpha and a very trustworthy man, and all that came to live in Westchester had come to confide in him from time to time, eager to listen to Remy's opinions and insights, for Remy often had many of both.

He became Westchester's unofficial look out, for he often spent his days seated upon the front porch, his keen eyes always alert for any soldiers or stragglers that required a place to stay.

"I hope Mr. Hank cheers up soon, eh?" Remy commented as he sorted out through the day's dried apple rings into baskets.

"How do you mean?" Charles asked as he prepared the fresh harvested apples for tomorrow's work, ready for use as soon as the morning sun rose.

"He hasn't been himself lately," Remy explained. They both knew it was the disappointment of never seeing Raven day in, day out. "But I feel it in the winds that he will cheer up soon. Don't you think so, Leon? Don't you think Daddy will be happy soon?" Leon made a happy little snuffling noise from where he lay safely in Remy's lap.

Charles made a little hum of affirmation and missed it when Remy lifted his head up or when Hank came to join them out on the front porch, halving Charles' load of work with an extra pair of hands.

"There's another soldier on the road."

"Well," Charles said, distracted, and with a small sigh. "I hope he won't be too hungry." They kept harbouring more and more soldiers, and if they kept right on coming, who would then help him harvest the apples in the orchard?

"Oh, she'll definitely be hungry. They always are," Remy convinced him. Charles looked up at the familiar sight of the soldier. What might have been a military uniform or something else was caked from head to toe in grey mud, making it difficult to make out any distinct features.

"I better go tell Moira to set up another plate," Hank murmured. "She looks like she could do with a hot meal and a bath. Skin and bones, and who knows what wounds lie underneath all of that--"

Hank stopped talking abruptly, almost dropping the apples he had been working on. His mouth fell open, jaw going as slack as everything else on Hank's face.

'Oh, now he's done it. He's about to faint,' Charles thought to himself, setting aside his basket to help Hank into the nearest chair. But Hank wasn't deterred, throwing off Charles' hand to race down the stairs in a display of athleticism that Charles had never observed in anyone; Hank flew over the gravelled drive with his arms outstretched. THe soldier lifted her head, pushing fingers through her dust caked hair to reveal a deeper, red colour underneath. The truth, Charles thought, as his heart raced then stopped again before restarting. Hank threw himself into the soldier's arms and their heads bent towards one another as sure as the planets orbited around the sun.

Charles gasped, taking one step and then another, about to run down the drive to join them. Remy's hand shot out, catching Charles' wrist in a deceptively gentle but firm grip.

"Don't," Remy warned quietly, looking as the scene unfolded in front of their eyes.

"How dare you! Let me go! It's Raven! You don't understand--"

Remy doesn't loosen his grip, shaking his head once and doesn't flinch when Charles glowered down at him with all of his righteous fury. "Is that not HIS alpha?" Remy asked quietly. "It is not your place." His eyes were filled with an understanding pity that rooted Charles' feet firmly to the ground.

 

Charles sat at Brian's desk, on his father's chair, doing accounts. The weather had taken a turn towards the worst and his hands were cold, friction offering only temporary relief. His feet weren't any better for the boots he was wearing were two sizes much too big for him, recycled from one of the alpha soldiers that they had buried earlier in the month.

His pen stilled. There was the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps, the sound of the back door slamming shut, and when he looked up, Remy had paused in the doorway with that devil-may-care grin on his face. He was toying with a gold coin, flipping it over his knuckles. Only to the trained eye, or mind, could Charles pinpoint that all was not quite what it seemed.

"Mr. Charles."

Remy was back at the appropriate time, having been sent into Greymalkin proper along with Cameron to get supplies; Charles trusts Remy enough to look after everything. Charles, after all, was genuinely busy running Westchester; Raven' reappearance had nothing to do with his insistence at staying home.

"The horses have been shod and the apples have been sold. This is all that's left."

Charles smiled. "Thank you for your hard work."

"Mr. Charles," Remy says again, fiddling with the coin between his long fingers, "How much money do you have?"

The question leaves Charles frowning, uncertain as to how to answer. "How do you mean? We have about 15 gold pieces left."

"Well, you see," Remy hesitated, but only for a moment, "I overheard, whilst in town, that they were looking into increasing the taxes set on Westchester. That won't nearly be enough."

"Increase the taxes?" Charles repeated, aghast, "What do you mean, Remy. We've already paid the taxes."

"Mr. Charles, Greymalkin is a changed place these days and it is hardly a place for a gentleomega such as yourself these days. You see, sir, that the people there have much changed. The MRA are running rampant and there are enough humans and betafolk alike that are mistreating fine omegafolk, pushing them onto the roads and off the sidewalks," Remy paused, frowning with disapproval before continuing.

"I put my ear to the ground and drifted from bar to bar, just picking up gossip, and it seems like somebody wants to purchase Westchester - I'm not sure whom, couldn't find that out - but if you can't pay the taxes, and everybody knows that you can't then Westchester is going to be put up for auction for cheap."

Charles frowned. Everything had changed ever since the war ended and he couldn't fathom how the vultures from the MRA, or those that had turn-tailed on the Brotherhood, could even profit when it had taken years upon years of honest labour and hard work to get Westchester where it was. Yes, Erik had been like that, had all but told Charles of his intentions, but he had changed towards the end. There were now Brotherhood soldiers held in makeshift jails and the MRA's newest division - The Freed Union - was in complete command of the going ons now, changing everything to suit their own ends.

There were the uprising of the freed servingfolk and betas - human and mutants alike - that had joined the Union. Charles wasn't even sure what sort of poisonous words the leader of the Union was spreading, but he knew they couldn't be any good, especially if martial law was being enforced from what Remy was describing to him.

The extra taxes and the threat of Westchester being taken away from him, Charles wasn't going to stand by and let that happen to him or his family. Even if peace had been declared, and a period of restoration presumably beginning, Charles was fighting a different war.

"Here I thought our troubles were all over as soon as the war ended." If Erik had been here to see, Charles was certain he would have called him out for his naivete.

"This is merely the beginning," Will answered gravely, giving her a steady look.

"How much are they asking for?"

"Five hundred dollars."

"Where am I going to find that sort of money?" Charles asked, almost dumbstruck by such a large number. It may as well be five thousand, or five million or even five billion. It was far too much money and there was too little time to find it in.

Remy shrugged, a bitter grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Perhaps a pot of gold or three at the end of a rainbow."

"Why would anyone do this to us?" Charles moaned. "Money, it's always money. We're only but a small apple orchard. We don't produce much of anything else and- What if we mortgage Westchester? Surely..."

"It's impossible, Mr. Charles. Who has enough money to lend you? You aren't a fool, Mr. Charles," Remy commented gravely. "The only people with enough are the ones that are trying to take Westchester away from you."

"There is still some jewellery left. Perhaps?"

"You won't be able to get much money for them, I can guarantee you that you have more money than most folks have around here. They can't afford bits of jewellery, let alone enough to cover the new taxes."

Charles ruffled his hair. He would have very much liked to turn and hit his head repeatedly against a hard surface until inspiration struck him as to how they were going to save Westchester. "What are we going to do, Remy?"

"I don't know, Mr. Charles."

"Well. There's no use telling anyone just yet. Don't let Mother know. You haven't told anyone else, correct?"

"No, I came right to you as soon as I came back."

"Very well. Have you seen Mrs. Darkholme? I would like to hear if she has anything to say about the matter."

Remy tilted his head, surveying Charles for a long moment, his strangely coloured eyes made him uneasy, making Charles squirm on the inside. "I think I heard her out back chopping up wood. But she's as poor as we are."

"I know that," Charles snapped, jumping up from his seat, letting the blanket that had been covering his shoulders to slump into a pile on the chair.

"You better wear something thicker, Mr. Charles. It's nippy out there."

Charles stubbornly doesn't answer, brushing past Remy to head out the back door himself. Finally - finally! - he would be able to talk to Raven alone and nothing was going to stop him from doing so.

 

There was the dull sound of an axe hitting the stump going a methodical intervals. The logs had been gathered from the surrounding woodland and the swamp, the wood splitting easily. The fence was slowly being replaced, slowly and arduously.

Raven was wearing little: a white linen shirt that was rolled up at the sleeves and had once seen better days, and the remainder of the pants she had came in. It made Charles' heart seize looking at Raven, her hand curled around the handle of the axe, as she sweated profusely that her forehead glistened in the sun making her blue scales sparkle.

"You know," Raven said, lifting her head up when Charles walked towards her, "they said that our ancestors had done their duty by working on the great railway that lead into New London. Such great deeds and now I'm following in their footsteps."

Charles felt his heart clench, for Raven was always making light of the matters at hand, of the hardships that she had to face, and he quickly told her of Remy's news, cutting out as much rambling as possible, for Raven would have something insightful to say, surely.

"Well? What do you suppose we should do then to get the money?"

"Money, you say?" Raven repeated.

"Yes. I'm asking you," Charles said emphatically, eyebrows knitting together in annoyance.

"The only person that I've heard with that sort of money around these areas is Erik Lehnsherr," Raven said at length.

Aunt Letty had written them earlier that Erik was back in town, in the best finery, the best carriage and the best horses to show for it. There had been rumours running rampant about how Erik had made off with the entire treasury of the MRA, but they were, like all things related to Erik Lehnsherr, just rumours.

"You came to me for help, thinking that I could possibly give you a hand, or for a word or two of wisdom, but I'm afraid you will have to be disappointed, Charles.

"I have only my name, for I no longer have a home nor any money. I have nothing to offer you except my willingness to learn, and even then it's not enough. I know that won't be nearly enough to help you keep Westchester and I can never repay you for what you have done, for the things you have done for Hank and our child, living here at Westchester upon your charity. I wake up knowing that there is much still that I need to learn before I can help you.

"These hands of yours, calloused and dry, are very dear to me," Raven continued, taking Charles' hands within her own. "These are the hands that are made the way they are today because of the sacrifice you've made to take care of all of us, your father, your sisters, my family, the servingfolk." She kissed his knuckles delicately, one small brush of her lips to each one joint.

Charles shivered, for he had dreamed of this moment for so long, ever since they had kissed back at the Darkholme Estate.

Raven continued, "I have kept people at a distance, acted aloof, chose who to befriend. I watched as the people I grew up with get blown up all around me. Why did it have to be them and why wasn't it me? I don't have a particularly offensive ability, and yet I'm the one that is still alive."

"You've been so brave, Raven. Only those that are courageous would have made it out of the war alive. I know it to be true," Charles said, almost pleaded for Raven to see that for the truth that it was. Charles even knew of her war record, of all the MRA soldiers that had died at her hand. It was an impressive number and all of that Charles knew that she had done to protect those that she loved.

"Oh, no, Charles. You would think that, but you weren't there and I would never wish it on you to be there. Stories are always about the gallantry of alphas, but the reality is-" Raven paused, as if searching for the appropriate word, "the reality is different."

There was a certain look in her eye that spoke of the atrocities that she had seen, of that Charles was certain she had seen plenty.

"I'm afraid, Charles. I'm afraid that I will never be able to provide for my family as you have done for yours. Hank and our little one- But you, you live very much in the now, you see facts for what they are, and you adapt and change accordingly, your loyalty to your family prevents you from escaping from all of this and I am in awe of that."

Charles stared at Raven, biting down on his chapped lips as his hand squeezed reflexively down on hers. Escape! Responsibility! Why all of that had been thrust upon him and if he could, if he was the type of person to drop this responsibility to run away and live with Raven, he would. He would in a heartbeat.

And yet. There were now far too many variables, far too many problems that now posed as problems. Hank. Little Leon. Sharon and his sisters. Remy and Cameron. Moira and Sean and Janos. Erik Lehnsherr. What would they all do if Charles did the irresponsible thing and posed that Raven and he ought to run away together, away from Genosha. It was an impossible dream.

"I am tired, Raven. I am tired of everything. I never wanted to become responsible for my family! It was never my place for I was born male, yes, but an omega. If it were possible, why I would- We could have run away together, we could have gone anywhere in the world. For you, Raven, I'd do anything for you."

"Don't you say that Charles," Raven said, her eyebrows pulling into a frown.

"Why could it not have been me that you chose, Raven? I could give you children. You told me you loved me and I know your affections haven't changed. I could make you happy."

Raven abruptly dropped his hands and settled them onto his shoulders, shaking him lightly.

"We were never to mention that day ever again. We were to forget that had ever happened."

"Oh, but it did happen, Raven. And I know you haven't changed at all. I can tell. You can't expect me to forget so easily, could you?"

"I do not love you, Charles," Raven said quickly, a sigh escaping her lips afterwards. "And even if I did, I cannot abandon Hank and the baby. I could never break Hank's heart like that. You can't leave your mother or your sisters, just as I cannot leave Hank and Leon. They matter, and I know these past few months have taken their toll on you - why else would you be talking in such a manner? - and I will try to ease the burden on your shoulders as much as I can.”

"What else is there, except that, keeping us here? We could start somewhere new, and be happy. Together."

Raven shook her head, her golden eyes softening a little. "Yes, there isn't anything keeping us here- except pride."

Charles tilted his head and drank in the sight of Raven. He had always thought that he knew every inch, every look, every part of Raven. But how had he missed the way she carried her head proudly upon her slim neck, or the way her rank, her biological make-up and the very essence of her dignity was prevalent in every inch of her body, as though the tattered remains of her clothes were but the sharpest and cleanest of uniforms.

And her eyes were oddly harsh, twin pools the colour of the sun almost as cold as the darkest hour of wintertime. He saw his own reflection in them, and deeper still, he saw the shattered remains of his desires and dreams of ever being able to live happily ever after with Raven.

He averted his gaze first, closing his eyes as he realised truly what this all meant. There was nothing that Raven could do to help him with the increase in taxes, that this was a problem that Charles would have to find all the answers to himself. Somehow.

"I- I shall take Hank and the baby and go. To avoid this from happening ever again," Raven said at long last.

"No," Charles said, knowing that Raven would never leave Hank or their child just as he would never leave his family or Westchester. Perhaps in another lifetime, he could have been happy with her and all of a sudden Charles felt oddly cold, devoid of any of his prior emotions that had filled him up with such fire. "I am not so cruel as to cast Hank and the child out when there is no need."

It was as if Charles had finally seen the light and Charles turned his back around to cast his gaze out into the orchard that had been the apple of Brian's eye. This was the place that Brian was buried in, and the place that Charles would too when the time came.

"I will not have any of you starve, not when it is still within my power to prevent this from happening. You need not leave just because I threw myself at you."

Charles took one step away and then paused, saying emphatically, "Rest assured, it will not happen again." The next step he took became easier than the first, and he held his head up with pride that was equivalent of what Raven had shown him in turn, heading back towards the house where the accounts awaited and the problem of saving Westchester was still left unsolved.

 

There was only one person who had enough money to save Westchester: Erik Lehnsherr. What Raven had said was true and Charles found himself seated upon the front porch, absentmindedly petting his pup's furry little head as the animal bit on his fingers. Erik Lehnsherr would lend him the money, of that Charles was certain. And if he did not, then there were still the small bits and pieces of jewellery that had been yet to be sold.

There was still the next year to consider and the one after that and if the Union knew he could pay them this year, then they would without a doubt raise them again and again until he couldn't.

Charles' mind continued churning, landing upon the memory of Erik during that weekend when Hank and Aunt Letty had gone to visit relatives and he had gone into heat, of Erik's strong scent and protective arms that had held him close as his cock swelled and grew in-between Charles' slick thighs, and of the kiss where his mouth had been all but plundered and filled Charles with longing for what could have been.

Marriage. Marrying Erik would solve everything for he would never be wont for anything else and it would give him the peace of mind to know that Erik would secure Westchester and the family would be provided for. Yes. This way, the Union would never get their dirty paws on Westchester and-- Well.

He'd become Erik's omega spouse, his husband: Mr. Charles Erik Lehnsherr. There was a terrible thrill that ran up his spine. Would he finally know what it was like to be knotted, to have Erik so deep inside of him that they would be literally stuck together until the time when it subsided? Would he become huge with Erik's children?  Now that was a sobering thought.

Erik had once said that he was not the marrying type, on that fateful evening when Erik had come to investigate and Charles had mistaken it for a proposal that it wasn't. Oh the way Erik had laughed that night. What if Erik still wasn't the type to marry?  What if Erik refused to marry him after all, despite what he said that night before he returned to New London that had been ablaze. What if Erik had forgotten him and was hankering after another omega?

But Erik had said: "I longed that one day it would be our child in your arms."

Surely, surely Erik could not have forgotten those words? And if Erik still doesn't want him as a spouse, then, then-- Charles closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. If Erik still wanted him, his body, then there would still be ways to get enough money. If he became pregnant with Erik's child, then Erik would become obligated to provide for him and, by extension, his family. Right?

Charles would willingly throw away his pride and dignity for his family, to ensure that none of them knew what starvation was like. And he knew the only thing that were only a few things stopping him from continuing with this plan: his love for Raven, wavering as it was, Charles had yet to come to terms that it was the end of that chapter; the memory of his father, Brian, but there was nothing the dead could do; and his reputation, or what remained of it, for Charles knew that what he thought of offering Erik was indeed prostitution, and it would be ripped to shreds if news of fornication reached unsympathetic ears.

Of course, the better route would be if Erik married him. But if Erik insisted on Charles becoming his paramour - his mistress really, who was he kidding here - then Charles would do it, if he must. Not that Charles knew what the proper etiquette was for becoming someone's little bit on the side, like the rumours said that Erik kept that Frost woman. Charles was oblivious to this side of alpha life, but he could bargain and barter easily enough.

He would tell the family that he was returning to New London tomorrow, to see if he could borrow money or mortgage Westchester if necessary. There was no need to alarm them just yet if there should come such a time when the truth came out.

He sounded most like a beggar when once in the past Erik was the one asking him for favours. And now, he would be the one to. Beggars couldn't be choosers after all. Charles walked quickly to the nearest reflective surface and eyed himself critically. If he truly must go to New London and do this, then Charles was going to look resplendent.

The months had not been kind and Charles despaired, despite how thin his waist looked even without any aid of a corset vest. He doesn't even know what the latest styles and fashions were, and if Erik was to see him in his old tattered vests, then he surely must know that something was wrong. Charles knew he ought to still have some clothes in the back of his closet that would suffice. There was nothing wrong with classic.

Charles sprinted back up the stairs and set the puppy onto his bed, then threw open his wardrobe doors and dug around the depressingly small amount of clothes in the back of the cabinet. He found his first corset vest and lifted it to the light, eyeing it up and down. It was the one he had received as soon as he had hit puberty and his parents found out he was an omega.

The vest was simple, made of fabric the colour of steel blue and silver gilded edgings, with buckles that will gleam as soon as they get the appropriate amount of polish on them. It was fraying a little around the edges, but that could be fixed later on under the expert eye of Moira's care. And now to find matching pants and a jacket that would show off the vest.

That night after dinner, the entire family rallied behind Charles' cause of looking his absolute best with a mix of emotions.

"You are not going into New London by yourself," Moira declared sternly, a frown on her face. "I will go with you." Charles opened his mouth, and then closed it sharply with a click at the glare that Moira sent him. It was better to obey her than not.

His mother sat at the head of the table, holding a glass of cider in hand. She looked happy, lucid almost and watched on as her children fluttered around Charles' revamped outfit, brushing velvet and what little thread they had left repairing and transforming.

Moira banished the alphas from the room later when the fitting began. Charles watched as Janos appeared to help Sharon upstairs into bed and both Raven and Remy disappeared along with them to go sit out on the back porch. His mind followed their progress, feeling the quiet satisfied hums from their thoughts until the first yank on the leather laces jerks Charles back into the present. Back to the task at hand as Moira cinches the corset in, the boning moulding his body into attractive curves that was sure to attract Erik Lehnsherr's attention. Back to the displeasure playing in the forefront of Moira's mind as she disapproved silently of Erik Lehnsherr himself, his reputation and of the necessity of Charles' actions. Back to the distracted flutterings by both his sisters as they bemoaned the fact that they couldn't have new dresses but were excited for Charles nevertheless and to the quiet scrutiny as Hank readjusted bunches of fabric and pinned them back into place.

Charles sucked in a breath, groaning as Moira took that as a sign to yank on the laces tighter and reminded himself that he had to do this in order to keep his family together and ensure that nobody took Westchester from him.

 

The train was deserted the entire way from Greymalkin to New London, the quiet was something that Charles enjoyed as he watched the countryside slowly become consumed by more and more buildings, ash-coloured and blackened by fire. The warehouse district was dominated by ruins and no one had rebuilt parts of the train depot walls now missing and making everything look grotesque. Charles descended from the carriage after Moira and they craned their heads to look about listlessly for a way to get to Aunt Letty's house.

Without Lucas and Aunt Letty's carriage, they would have to hire one or walk. Neither option was particularly attractive for the people that were in possession of a carriage were none that Charles was acquainted with and Charles still had his dignity about him that stopped him from appropriating a free ride as he wished. There were no longer any familiar faces that loitered around outside the station and Moira wielded the bag that held Charles' mended finery close to her body like a shield, and tucked the small bag that contained her own belongings underneath her arm before ushering Charles onwards. It was going to be difficult to escape from underneath Moira's watchful eye and Charles knew better than to quarrel with her.

In the daytime as Moira and Charles walked down the familiar path to Aunt Letty's house, Charles felt sorrow to observe just how much the New London that he had loved had been devastated and ruined beyond recognition. There was the empty lot where the corner shop used to stand and The New London Hotel where Erik had stayed in before he came to stay at Aunt Letty's house, with its elegant decor and plush velvets, was but a shell of its former glory.

They turned the corner and Charles wasn't prepared to see the street where white picket fences and beautifully crafted houses, with gardens and trees he had gotten to know intimately on the walks to the Hospital and back were now unfamiliar to him. Now there were vacant lots now where houses used to stand and some of the trees that had once dotted the sidewalk were now replaced by ash.

The most disconcerting of all were the new buildings that had popped up to replace old landmarks. Once, Charles had known each and every building that was in the neighbourhood, and now there were new buildings with open windows and handsome shop fronts that Charles couldn't recognize. It was equally as exciting as it was daunting.

And the people! There were so many that crowded along the sidewalks, bustling about to and fro, all wearing an assortment of clothes. Some were in the latest styles from France that made Charles' heart ache for something new, and then there were those dressed up in the MRA uniform with brass buttons gleaming and boots polished to a high glossy finish. The carriages and horses that trundled past were none that Charles recognized. He looked up and down the street that he used to know like the back of his hand and felt a wave of nostalgia hit him.

The people carried themselves without any proper decorum and Charles could feel the way they stared at him with sneers upon their faces, looking him up and down. Their thoughts were utmost unpleasant, tinged with lust and arousal, and Charles felt no remorse as he vengefully made them believe they were pigs. The effects would wear off sooner or later, Charles was certain and Moira said nothing about the sudden increase of oinking in the street.

"Come along, Mr. Charles," Moira said, a wry cheeky smile threatening to blossom on her lips, "I just can't stand all that noise."

Charles bit down on his bottom lip to keep from chuckling, and they quickly picked their way down the street. Coming in the opposite direction was a handsome carriage pulled by a pair of healthy looking animals. Now, here was someone that must be rich and could afford the exorbitant prices of a horse and carriage. Could it perhaps be someone that he knew? Charles wondered, his face transforming itself into something more pleasant. His curiosity got the better of him and he sent his telepathy out, creeping up upon the carriage just as a woman's head appeared for a moment, her blonde head carried proudly, a hat made from white fur sat upon blonde curls.

Charles blinked, his smile falling just a little and he winced as soon as he felt a wall quickly rise between his inquisitive brush and her mind. It was Emma Frost and Charles caught a glimpse of a furrowed brow and a twist of dislike upon painted lips before she retreated inside the carriage again.

"Who was that?" Moira asked, glaring after the carriage. "She looked like she recognized you, but she didn't make any motion to bow at you."

"Never mind, Moira. I do not know her apart from her name and her profession. She is not someone that I would want to get to know intimately," Charles stated, turning back onto the road towards Aunt Letty's house.

Moira cursed underneath her breath at the revelation. "A scarlet woman! And yet she is dressed up so finely and with such a handsome carriage. How is this fair for the commonfolk like us who work day in, day out, and still go hungry?"

Charles kept his mouth shut, for he wouldn't be any better than Emma Frost if his plans in seducing Erik Lehnsherr for his money went the way he hoped it would go. It was necessary, Charles reminded himself, and he quickly tuned out Moira's rant about the injustices of the world.

They hurried on past the Worthington house, the house now unrecognisable for whoever lived there now had torn it down and rebuilt a two storey brick house. The house where the Pryde family used to live further up the road was now reduced to only the foundation stone, and the Braddock home had become a patchwork repair job with its boarded up windows and lopsided awning. There was no sign of anybody in the cracks in the windows nor a person seated upon the porch, and even if there were, Charles doubted it would be someone he recognized.

Finally, they turned the last corner and Charles couldn't help but smile at the sight of the new slate roof upon the familiar - if a little sooty - red brick. And there in the little garden out front stood Lucas, a pair of shears in his hand as he tended to the small flowering shrubbery that managed to survive the fires. He lifted his head to wipe the sweat upon his forehead and when he saw Charles and Moira walking up the sidewalk, the largest smile crossed his weather-beaten face.

"Mr. Charles! Is that you?" he cried out, dropping the shears onto the dirt by his feet

Charles laughed and nodded, although it was questionable whether Lucas' eyesight could catch the motion. "It is really me! Run along and let Aunt Letty know we're here!"

 

Over a meagre dinner of cornbread and thin soup that evening, Charles listened as Aunt Letty ranted about her financial situation, going into great detail about her series of unfortunate events. With the taxes running rampant as they had been, it was by some small miracle that Aunt Letty could afford to remain in the house. She had a distant elder alpha sister that she didn't get on with, and it humiliated her that she even had to ask.

Having been subjected to many of Aunt Letty's former rants about her benevolent elder sister, Charles was eager to speak of other subjects. "We shouldn't dwell on such matters, Aunt Letty. Perhaps you could tell me about some of the new marriages that must have occurred?"

Aunt Letty visibly perked up and gave detailed reports about her old neighbours, including what they were doing or eating or drinking or wearing or allying themselves with the MRA scum. She spoke of the Prydes and the Worthingtons moving into the Braddock home, and the ongoing renovations done to that house in order to fit all the people that had once been staunch Brotherhood supporters under the same roof. The Braddock home had turned into a boarding home and all of those staying there weren't paying rent.

Charles skilfully led the conversation for news of everyone in town, feigning carefully studied curiosity until such a time when he could ask about Erik Lehnsherr. For it was never proper for an omega such as Charles to ask straight out about an alpha of such a scandalous reputation as Erik's and Charles considered Aunt Letty one of the very few whose mind he would never touch without their express permission; Charles would rather not have to deal with any of her rising suspicions if Aunt Letty were to know that Erik was to refuse to marry him. But he wasn't above implanting a small suggestion into Aunt Letty's mind that she wanted to talk about Erik Lehnsherr.

"And can you believe it? They want to allow serventfolk and betafolk to vote! Why Lucas here has more sense than any other person that I know of, but why would he wish for the need to vote? It isn't like the politicians do anything as it is and Lucas here is far too well bred to require such frivolous things. Now, I know you are a telepath, and I know you could very well take care of yourself, but there have been stories, you see, about the MRA and their lack of respect towards the omegafolk. You have to be careful Charles, for there have been instances, even in broad daylight, where they would push omegafolk into the mud and laugh gaily whilst they do so. And if any gentlealpha were to protest, why they would arrest them on the spot and-- Oh, have I told you about how Captain Lehnsherr was put into jail?"

Charles' eyes widened at the sound of that name, so unfamiliar and foreign upon Aunt Letty's tongue. "You mean Erik Lehnsherr?"

"The very one!" Aunt Letty's eyes were ablaze with excitement and poorly hidden glee. "They say he killed a beta, and now, he's sitting at this very instance in jail because of it. They might even hang him. Can you imagine?"

For a long moment, Charles couldn't breathe and he could only stare as Aunt Letty looked pleased as punch by the statement and the obvious effect it was having on Charles.

"Oh yes, they haven't proved it yet, but I'm sure they might. The MRA are obviously up in arms about it since there have been so many betafolk being killed as of late - really who could be surprised what with the way they have been carrying themselves as if they were worth their own weight in gold, hah! - and who knew that Captain Lehnsherr would do such a heinous thing. Why, he was only here a week ago with the largest jar of lemon drops as a present, asking about you. He was awfully worried about whether he had offended you during the seige and had hoped to find you here to apologise to you, should you think to ever forgive him for whatever wrong he has done to you."

Charles ignored her obvious attempt at wriggling information out of him. "How long will he be in jail for?"

"Nobody knows for certain, but the MRA don't seem too bothered whether Captain Lehnsherr is guilty or not, or even if they can prove that he is guilty. Not with the recent attacks by the--" And here, there was a long pause as Aunt Letty looked over her shoulder to check and see if there were any unsavoury figures standing outside her kitchen window, "-- by the Hellfire. I don't suppose Raven or Remy would have told you about the meetings, if the Hellfire's influence has spread all the way down to Greymalkin. And it isn't the place for gentleomegas such as yourself to go about knowing such things regardless. I suppose the MRA are annoyed that they can't trace the killer to anyone in particular and wanted to keep the Brotherhood in check by making an example of Captain Lehnsherr, but they can't because the MRA - according to Mrs. Braddock - believe that he does in fact know where all the money is hidden. And of course, the MRA are trying to make Captain Lehnsherr reveal everything."

Charles felt alarm bells going on in his head at the mention of money. Could it be the fortune that Lehnsherr himself had made or was it something else? "What money?" he prompted, feeling the need to know rise with every passing second.

Aunt Letty blinked, tilting her head to the side. "But surely you read the letters I sent you? Oh dear, I simply must tell you again. New London was ablaze with rumours when Captain Lehnsherr returned a few months ago with his horse and carriage and all the splendour you could imagine. He had gold and money coming out of his ears and it simply infuriated everyone in town when we are all struggling to make ends meet. But no one had the courage to ask where all the money came from, except for the one time when Captain Lehnsherr came over for dinner. He smiled and laughed, you know how he is, and said glibly that the money came from a source that couldn't be considered an honest day work."

Charles wondered what on earth Erik could have meant by that, frowning as he considered all the options. "But everyone knows that he made his money from running the blockade--"

Aunt Letty tutted, "He made a portion of it from that, but apparently that isn't all that Captain Lehnsherr has got, for the MRA believes he possesses millions in gold after the government fell."

"M-Millions?" Charles' head reeled for that was a number that he had never considered.

"Well, the MRA thinks that the money in the treasury found its way into the hands of the blockade runners and when the coffers were completely dry at the end of the war, the question of where did all the money go was on everyone's lips. And as Captain Lehnsherr, along with his other blockade runners, sold millions of dollars in product for the Brotherhood and banked all of that money into overseas accounts under their own names. The blockaders have been under a lot of criticism as of late, but no words ever seem to faze Captain Lehnsherr - you know how he is," Aunt Letty said and they shared a quiet smile. "And now the MRA strongly believes that all the money that once belonged to the Brotherhood, now belongs to them, including whatever Captain Lehnsherr has squirrelled away in his accounts, even if he pretends to not know anything. People have been hanging that they ought to hang him anyway, for taking advantage of the war in such a dishonourable manner! Why he is no better than a thief-- Charles, are you feeling well? You look a little pale. I hope I haven't upset you by talking about the current states of affairs."

Charles had nervously started licking at his lips, worrying at the bottom one between his teeth. Why was everything so convoluted? With Erik now in jail, what would become of Westchester? Would he even have the funds to help him? Erik was simply no good to him if he wound up dead.

Aunt Letty tutted and pet the back of his hand, her eyebrows flying upwards. "Oh I'm so very sorry, dear. I knew he was sweet on you and was once one of your suitors, but I had thought that perhaps the feelings you held for him had--"

"No," Charles said slowly, wishing it weren't so difficult to find his voice. "No. He wasn't-- isn't a friend of mine. We had a fight before and I-- Where is he being held?"

"Captain Lehnsherr? Why he's over at the fire station near Russell Square. That's the military jail for the MRA for now. Have I told you the story about Captain Lehnsherr when he--"

"I'm sorry, Aunt Letty," Charles said with his best placating smile, stifling a yawn into the back of his hand. "I'm afraid the long journey here has made me tired. Perhaps you could tell me tomorrow or some other time? I should very much like to sleep off the journey and if you don't mind me staying in bed tomorrow- I would be most pleased to go calling with you any other time."

"Oh, of course!" Aunt Letty cried out as she leapt to her feet. "Please take all the time you need to rest up. You should have stopped me earlier, dear, chatting away when you look like you are about to fall asleep at the table. How selfish of me!  I'm afraid I promised to sit with dear Mrs. Worthington tomorrow, the poor dear and her cook have been down with something nasty. Why, you must lend me Moira tomorrow. You know how useless I can be in the kitchen."

Charles nodded with a tired smile. "I'm sure Mrs. Worthington would appreciate the good hearty stew Moira makes that will set them right. Isn't that right, Moira?"

Moira mumbled something affirmative and shot him an assessing look, suspicious as to how Charles was implying that she ought to be anywhere but by Charles' side. Auny Letty remained oblivious and bade him a good night. He climbed the repaired stairs, herded by Moira as she fussed over Charles not wearing enough. The room - his room - was about the same. And yet, when he lay upon that unfamiliar bed that night, all he could think about was the press of Erik's lips against his skin and how badly he wanted to see Erik.

 

Come morning, the sun streamed in cheerfully through the window. With Aunt Letty, Moira and Lucas out of the house, Charles sprung out of bed without delay. Sleep had been easy to find that night for the weariness he felt after the train journey had been but a drop of water in the ocean when it was measured against the deep exhaustion he had accumulated ever since returning to Westchester.

If his plan was going to have any chance of coming to fruition, then now would be the best time for him to execute it. He took a moment to look at the outfit that his family had helped him create and mend, taking in one of Anna-Marie's shaky stitches with a small smile. Everything he did was for their sake and Charles quietly donned his new clothes like it was armour and he was ready for battle.

He trotted quickly over to Aunt Letty's room after pulling on his polished boots to tie the bow of his cravat, retrying until it sat perfectly at the collar of his coat. The darker navy of the coat set off his eyes, making them appear startling bright and an impossible shade of blue. He smiled at his reflection, noting how handsome he looked. It felt wonderful to be in an outfit that screamed for attention after months and months of wearing linen shirts and practical jodhpurs. And intricately crafted brooch that Angel had lent him sat proudly in the center of the cravat, clipping it into place. Charles swallowed, watching as the fabric moved enticingly. Alphafolk were always attracted to his pale neck, or perhaps that had only just been Erik with the way he had laved attention upon his skin that night.

He shivered from the memory, and licked at his lips distractedly. No one would ever suspect how dire the situation was at Westchester just by looking at him now and Charles drew himself up to his full height in order to appear more confident and relaxed. It was imperative that Erik didn't catch on, didn't even begin to suspect that the memory was anything but that. It would have been easier for Charles to pretend that Erik was any other person that he could use his telepathy on. But having spent so much time with the alpha, Charles couldn't bring himself to cross that line even if it was for the sake of his family.

Charles stole out of the house and hastened down to Russell Square, hitching a ride from a passing older male omega who happened to be going in the same direction. He thanked him profusely for the ride and stepped out carefully onto the carriage block. Much of the surrounding buildings had survived, including the city hall that loomed tall and proudly in all of its red brick magnificence. Surrounding it were rows upon rows of MRA tents and by extension the soldiers that lived inside the dingy little huts. The sight of them made him gulp.

He looked up and down the street towards the fire station, ignoring to the best of his abilities the trepidation he felt gnawing at his stomach. How would he go about finding Erik in amongst this maze? There were two guards standing outside, looking awfully menacing with their guns. 'Well,' Charles thought squaring his soldiers as, 'I wouldn't be much of a telepath if I couldn't sneak past them.' He made himself invisible to them and slipped in past the heavy closed doors.

With half of the work done now, Charles merely had to find the appropriate chain of command and convince him - with his powers or otherwise - that the higher ups had granted him this visit. He bit down on his lips as he walked through the rows of horse stalls until he happened upon the sound of raucous laughter and the sound of items clinking against one another. Trusting his instincts, Charles turned to throw open the stall door and gaped. For sat around a table, playing what appeared to be a game of poker, was Erik Lehnsherr.

He was dirty but clean shaven and wearing little else but a cotton shirt that looked like it had seen much better days and a pair of dusty pants that might have been black once upon a time. Charles frowned for he was not used to the sight of the great Captain Erik Lehnsherr, his alpha escort to so many bazaars and frivolities, looking anything less than his best.

A voice from behind him startled him nearly out of his skin. "Is there something I can help you with?" Charles turned around to find a elderly looking woman dressed up in the MRA's uniform.

"I-I'm looking for my brother, Captain Erik Lehnsherr. The higher ups from, uh, Command told me that I would be able to find him here," Charles said.

She laughed. "Lehnsherr again? He sure is a popular prisoner. What are you, his relative or something?"

"I already said I was his brother, didn't I?"

She laughed again. "That you did, lad. He sure has a lot of relatives. Why his sisters came by yesterday, only Lehnsherr refused to see her. Just a minute."

Charles glared at her retreating back, barely suppressing the urge to tap his foot impatiently upon the floor as he watched her progress down to the stall where Charles could see Erik laugh. He shivered, wishing with irritability that they would hurry up. It was cold and drafty inside the fire station and Charles wished his coat had been made of thicker material.

The door to the stall slid open on squeaky wheels and Erik appeared, a smile on his face. He was immediately followed by the female officer. "Charles! I wasn't expecting to see you."

Charles' hands were captured in-between both of Erik's and despite the coldness the building harboured, the contact between them sizzled and arced. There was just something about Erik's grip that made his previous ice cold hands flare to life, as if the blood underneath his skin reacted to the close proximity of having Erik there. Before Charles could even come up with a proper reply, Erik had leant in closer, bending down and pressed a kiss to his cheek before enveloping Charles into his arms.

"My dearest little brother!" Erik pronounced loudly, grinning down at Charles and taking advantage of Charles' momentary surprise. "You look well." Erik then turned around to face the woman. "I assure you that my darling little brother has not brought me any saws or files to help me escape." She laughed and left with a stern warning.

Erik kept an intimate hand on Charles' shoulder and ushered him into one of the empty horse stalls, sliding it shut a moment later with his powers. The sound of her fading footsteps and the muted sounds of the world outside assured Charles that they were finally alone.

"Can I really kiss you now?"

Charles looked up through his eyelashes, licking at his lips to wet them as a small demure smile formed on his face. He answered, "On the forehead, like a good brother."

"No, thank you. I'm going to wait for better things to come." Erik's eyes were drawn to his lips, where they lingered for a moment longer than was necessary. "You are the first respectable person I have seen ever since I got placed in this dusty old place. Tell me, when did you arrive into town?"

"Yesterday. Oh Erik, I was ever so distressed to hear from Aunt Letty that you had been put into jail," Charles said.

Erik's eyebrows shot upwards towards his hairline, smiling down at Charles with an expression of honest pleasure and surprise. "And you came out to see me first thing this morning? Why you are very good to keep me so close to your heart. It couldn't have been easy to get permission from Command, I imagine?"

Charles' cheeks flared up with embarrassment, biting down on his lower lip to keep the excitement at bay. It was heartening to see how well the plan was going. "Of course, I came as soon as I could, and as soon as Command heard my story of how long I had travelled in order to see my dearest elder brother, they had no reason but to let me through."

"Which is to say you never went to ask them in the first place," Erik said with a hint of skepticism, although Charles saw the typical humour on Erik's face. Perhaps Erik had heard that story far too often when it came to some of his more saucy 'relatives'.

Charles blinked once, widening his eyes for effect and asked with a quavering note, "Are you calling me a liar, Erik? I thought you would appreciate--"

Erik was quick to interject, startled. "No, not at all. Please don't cry, Charles. I'm sorry. You see, I never expected you to ever visit me in here, especially with what happened that night. Can you tell me that I have been forgiven for that night?"

"No, I can't say I have."

"Shame. There's yet another hope of mine crushed," Erik smiled, amusement teasing at the corners of his lips. "And here I thought that my services to serve my country and the finest case of dysentery known to the Brotherhood would be worth something."

Charles pulled a face. Trust Erik to be so crude in front of a gentleomega such as himself! "I don't want to hear about such-- things, not after what happened on that night knowing that anything could have happened to a defenseless omega such as myself."

"But nothing did, and you are hardly defenseless. So you see, Charles, my confidence in you to see things through is fully restored. I knew you would return home to Westchester safe and sound."

"Oh Erik," Charles sighed out the name like a soft caress, "why did you join the Brotherhood like that? You knew we didn't have a fighting chance of winning the war! Do you not remember of all the times that you commented about the fools that went into the war to get themselves shot."

"Please don't that up again, Charles."

"Why, you should be ashamed for deserting me--"

Erik interrupted before Charles could say more. "No, you misunderstood me, for I am not referencing the night when we parted ways, but rather for joining the Brotherhood, late as I did, in my boots and the shirt on my back. There were long nights I endured in nothing but and I am as surprised as anyone to find that my feet survived the very ordeal for my boots had worn away to nothing but that time. There was never anything to eat and-- I suppose I will never understand why I never did desert the Brotherhood. It is in my blood to see things through to the bitter end, even if it is a lost cause. But never mind that," Erik paused, his lips peeling back to reveal teeth. "It is enough to know that I have been forgiven."

"Didn't you hear?" Charles retorted with his eyebrows furrowing. "You haven't--"

"Oh Charles," Erik tsked, far more amused than he ought to be, "Young omegafolk such as yourself wouldn't demand to see a prisoner just for charity. You are quite the sight for sore eyes in your velvet overcoat and embroidered vests. It has been far too long since I last saw an omega wearing their best, for they often are wearing old clothes and black mourning clothes these days. You look stunning, liebling. Give us a spin."

Charles spun on his toes dutifully, laughing all the while as he does so. So Erik had noticed his clothes. Charles had expected nothing less, of course, being Erik. Erik's pale grey eyes looked their fill, eyeing Charles up and down with a hungry gaze that seemed to miss nothing, and never failed to make Charles' skin tingle pleasantly.

"You look wonderful and prosperous. And almost good enough to eat." Charles shivered at the predatory look Erik was giving him, but sprang to his feet quickly in outrage. "If only it wasn't for the MRA soldiers stationed outside-- Stop that, Charles, you are quite safe. I wouldn't take advantage of you like I did last time. Please sit down."

Charles sat with a small grumble, watching as Erik rubbed at his jaw in a chagrined manner.

"I came to the defense of our great country, despite not changing the result all that much. And all I got for my troubles was a slap across the face." Charles reined in his glare. This wasn't where Charles had envisioned the talk going and his heart beat against his ribcage. Erik had seemed genuinely glad to see that Charles had come to see him, almost like any gentlealpha and not like the rogue Charles knew Erik to be. Jail really hadn't changed Erik at all.

"Must everything be about getting what you want?"

"Isn't it always? But I digress," Erik said at length when it became obvious that Charles wasn't going to reply. "Tell me more about you. How have you been since the last time I saw you?" Erik pulled a short stool from nowhere by its nails, and then sat down close to where Charles perched upon his chair.

"Well," Charles said at length, unconsciously placing a hand on Erik's forearm where he could feel the corded muscle through the thin shirt. He began petting the fabric as he spoke. "I have to say that Westchester is doing very well. Of course, it could be doing a little better, but there are small miracles in what we have left. Thankfully the house is still standing. We moved twenty large crates of apples. Of course, Westchester's potential is much more than that had we more apple pickers. Mother is convinced we'll do much better by next year when we have more help. Oh Erik, I've gotten so used to living in New London that I can't get accustomed to living the country life. There is nothing exciting to talk about except for how difficult everything is now that the war is over. It is so boring out there without any barbecues or balls to attend. So I decided to come back into town to visit my aunt, just to check if there are any of the latest vests and coats that are suited to my liking."

Charles noted with some pride that he had delivered that with the right amount aloofness. Just enough to assuage any suspicion that Erik may have.

The corners of Erik's eyes crinkled. "And you look stunning, liebling. I imagine though that you aren't only here to visit dear Aunt Letty? Perhaps you're looking for new beaus now that there are new people about."

Charles merely smiled in reply. "Well, I am always looking forward to meeting new people."

Erik chuckled, one corner of his lips lifting upwards. "Charming as always, you are. It does make one wonder if the amount of charm that you possess ought to be illegal. For I have met many omegafolk in my time, some of whom were prettier and cleverer and kinder than you. But you are the only one I remember. Even if I were in Europe or back here in Genosha, and I was enjoying the company of many other beautiful omegafolk, I would always remember your face and wonder about what you were doing."

There was an undeniable thrill that shot up Charles' spine at the thought that Erik remembered him, remembered his face and actually wondered about him from time to time. It almost made Charles question his motives about being there, in that drafty barn.

"Oh Erik, you certainly know how to tease a little omega like me, don't you?" Charles said, biting down on his lips. "How could you say that you missed me when you had all those beautiful European omegas fluttering about you like butterflies and pollen. I do have to confess that I came out here for a purpose--"

"Yes?"

"Well-- They won't truly hang you would they?" Charles asked, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"If they find more evidence they will."

"Oh no," Charles breathed out.

"Would you be sorry to see me go in such a manner?" Erik asked, taking Charles' hand and bringing it close to his chest to lay it over his heart. "I'll mention you in my will if you are." His pale eyes danced mockingly and Charles had to quickly avert his eyes lest Erik picked up exactly on what he was thinking of. Erik had the strangest ability to become the one with telepathic powers when they were alone.

"According to the MRA's rumours, I am to have quite a spectacular will. For you see, liebling, they are of the firm believe that I happen to possess quite an extraordinary amount of money and a lot of interest has been placed into my finances as of late as if they believe that I ran off with all of the gold in the Brotherhood's treasury."

Charles gasped. "Did you?"

"What a question!" Erik stated with a bark of laughter. "You know as well as anyone that the Brotherhood printed on paper."

"But then-- Where did all that money come from?"

Erik smiled. "You are no better than all the committees and boards that they've put me in front of, all asking the same questions."

"Is there any chance of you getting out of here? I know that it would be painstakingly easy what with your gifts. I'm surprised you haven't already escaped, to be honest."

"If it comes to that, you can bet your bottom dollar that I would. But for now, I'll be sitting tight. 'Adversus exitus optio non est' as they say."

Charles wanted to ask who they referred to but his Latin was a little rusty. Why couldn't Erik give him a straight answer? "What does that mean?"

"The literal translation would be something similar to 'failure is not an option', liebling."

"It would be such a waist of a clever alpha such as yourself, Erik. And when you get out of here--"

Erik leant closer, their faces far too close for two brothers to ever be in. "And then?"

"Why I--" Charles was rather flustered and gesticulated wildly, tapering off into silence as his cheeks flared up. "Erik, that night-- I am sorry for what I said to you then. You have to believe that-- I was scared you see-- and I had come to rely upon you and--" He looked down to stare at Erik's larger hand, so capable and ready. In those long fingers, Charles knew that Erik would fight and protect for the causes that he believed in. "When I heard from Aunt Letty that they had taken you in-- that they might hang you-- I was beside myself--" Charles looked up imploringly, tucking his lower lip in between his teeth for effect. "You see, Erik. I may have--"

Erik's grip around his wrists suddenly tightened that Charles almost yelped out from the pain. "What are you trying to tell me, Charles?"

Charles hesitated and then lifted his face towards Erik, his eyelids fluttering shut on their own volition. It would have been so simple, so easy for Erik to lean over and kiss him on the lips, taking and plundering like it may be his last kiss on Earth. But Erik did not kiss him, and Charles tried to quell the strange feelings of disappointment lurking in his stomach. He lifted his eyelids a fraction to peer through his eyelashes, watching with bated breath as Erik brought his hands up to his lips and pressed soft kisses to the back of his hands. His head was bowed so it was impossible for Charles to know the expression on Erik's face. The butterflies in his stomach were fluttering about ever so unpleasantly.

"Erik--" Charles began, pausing to look down at his palms. Any moment now, he knew, Erik would ask to marry him - or at the very least say that he loved him - and then his plan would be complete.  His family wouldn't have to starve and Westchester would be secure. Charles allowed Erik to turn his hand palm up, presumably to press more kisses into his skin, only instead of light kisses there, Charles felt the soft gasp of breath blowing across his palms. The sound made Charles look down and he blanched. He doesn't recognize his own hand any longer, for there were calluses and freckles where there used to be none. His nails were gritty and a blister was nestled into the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. Charles quickly clenched his hand into a fist, hiding away the evidence of the months of hardship.

Erik was silent as he coaxed Charles' fingers open, bringing up Charles' matching hand to observe them in the light. Charles was horrified to see the scars that had accumulated.

"Is there something you wish to tell me now?" Erik asked quietly, lifting his head up to look at Charles. "These are not the hands of someone who has enjoyed months of prosperity as you had lead me to believe."

"Shut up," Charles snapped as he withdrew his hands, holding them protectively against his chest. "Shut up! It's my own business what I do with my hands."

Erik leaned back, away from Charles and looked at Charles coolly. His face was as smooth as a river pebble. "That it is. You've been working with those hands like an apple picker, haven't you? Well? What have you got to say about it, or are you going to lie about that part too?"

"Times have been tough, everyone know that. I was only doing my bit, Erik--"

The smile on Erik's face was tight. "You want something from me, don't deny it. It's written all over your face. Why else would you have to put on this show? Well? Spit it out. What do you want from me then? You should have known better that the one thing I value in an omega is honesty. You had a better chance without this charade that you put on like some cheap harlot."

Charles felt a chill run down his spine at Erik's words, for they were not said in anger. Rather, they was a calmness in that voice that frightened Charles. Exploding rage, Charles could deal with, but this quietness, this deadly calm spoke of an alpha whose path should never be crossed, even with the MRA soldiers so close.  Instead of replying, Charles felt his cheeks flush with shame.

"Could it be, Mr. Charles, that you were hoping I would propose to marry you?" Erik cynically stated, more than. "Even you remember how often I have told you that I was not the marrying type. Is this not true?"

"Yes," Charles answered at length.

"And you thought that being away from good omega company, I would hasten at the very chance to be close to you? My, Charles, I never took you for the gambling type. Now, everything has been revealed but the reasons as to why you wished to tie me down in matrimony." Erik's eyes were dancing with merriment, and Charles felt a small glimpse of hope. Marriage was clearly off the table, but if he played his cards right, it was perhaps possible, plausible even, to get some portion of Erik's money, even if it meant playing on his affections and his sympathy.

"Please, Erik. It would be awfully sweet of you if you could help me out when I am in such a bind. A favour if you will."

"Go on, I'm listening." Erik prompted. "I do like being-- sweet."

"If it's possible, I want you to lend me five hundred dollars in order to pay the taxes on Westchester."

"Aha! The truth at last. And here you were talking of love and only thinking about money." Erik scoffed and shook his head once. "Very well. Collateral?"

"How-- What do you mean?" Charles asked, confusion written on his face.

"I'm not a charity, Charles. Collateral is required to ensure that I don't lose all of that money," Erik explained, his voice all smooth despite the talk of business. It would have been pleasant to listen to had Charles been paying attention.

"I-- A mortgage on Westchester."

"What would I do with a farm?"

"Westchester has been in my family ever since my grandparents passed it down to my father, and it has served him well. You wouldn't lose out. I just need enough time to pay you back out of the crop for next year-- next season even!"

"You could make quite a lot of money charging people for apples," Erik conceded with a nod of his head. "But I'm not sure."

"Please, Erik!" Charles pleaded, clenching his hands into fists upon his thighs. "Westchester-- I need the money badly to save Westchester from falling into someone else's hands. My mother just hasn't been the same ever since father passed away and she-- Even with Janos' powers to help with the picking, there is still so much work to be done and there are too many mouths to feed. Of course, we couldn't really go hungry with Westchester providing for us, but there are still others things that we need to buy. And the taxes-- why they are outrageous and will just keep on climbing. I don't want my family to starve, Erik, they don't deserve that, and if only I had enough to keep them warm and keep them safe--"

"Then where did this pretty little outfit come from?"

"This was my first vest and coat. You've never seen it before because I haven't been able to fit into it until recently," Charles explained. "I don't have the time to sell off all of the produce that we've currently got at Westchester. Five hundred dollars is a lot of money, I agree, except the raised taxes need to be paid right away."

"And you couldn't have told me this from the beginning instead of playing with my poor susceptible heart-- it could never resist a pretty face. Now, don't cry, Charles. You've tried everything but turning on the waterworks, and I don't think I could stand it. I should think I would join you too for my feelings are rather hurt and disappointed that it was rather my money and not me that you wanted."

Charles knew that Erik spoke in riddles sometimes, often mocking himself along with the rest of the populace. Did Erik care about him? Were Erik's feelings truly hurt? Had Erik been swayed at all before he saw the state of his hands? Charles daren't use his telepathy to find out the answer.

"I don't want Westchester as collateral, I'm not a farmer. What else have you got to offer me?"

Charles had run out of any material belongings that he had left and he looked up slowly, meeting Erik's icy blue eyes and holding that gaze. He felt as if all the air had been sucked out from his body and he shivered with anticipation.

"That night on Aunt Letty's front porch when you came to investigate, you said that-- you said you wanted me," Charles said softly, watching carefully for any indication that would have given Erik away. But there was none for his face was inscrutable. "You said that there was not one omega that you wanted as much as you wanted me. You-- You can have me. Erik, I swear I will do anything as you ask. Please, Erik, I need that money soon."

"And what makes you so sure that I still want you now, after what you've just done? Five hundred dollars-- Why, most omega escorts don't cost that much." Charles refused to say anything else on the matter, red-faced and ashamed. Erik continued, "Let me reiterate, Charles. Your business proposition involves me giving you five hundred dollars, in exchange for you becoming mine."

"Y-Yes." Charles closed his eyes wondering if he was any better than the company that Erik often kept.

"Curious how this conversation seems so familiar. Ah, yes. That night on that porch. Did we not play this exact same scenario only--"

"Please stop teasing me, Erik." Charles licked at his lips. He could endure this, all of Erik's teasing words and torment, for Westchester. If it meant he could see Westchester next spring and nap underneath the cool shade of his favourite apple tree, then it would be worth the injustice now. He bowed his head down to examine the way his knuckles formed little dimples in his skin.

The minutes ticked past and still there was no reply from Erik. Charles lifted his head.

"Well?" he demanded. "Are you going to lend me the money?"

Erik looked as if he were enjoying Charles' internal dilemma. "No, Charles," he said, a suave brutality in his refusal. "I am not."

Charles was stunned for he had never foreseen this outcome.

"You see, Charles. I couldn't give a cent to you even if I wanted to. Yes, I do have money, but none of it is here in New London. And even if I were to withdraw some for you, the MRA will undoubtedly have a field day with the discovery and then neither of us will get what we want."

Charles sprang to his feet, enraged. Erik could have told him this sooner - much sooner - and he wouldn't have had to suffer the injustices to his pride of lowering himself to such a level. Swiftly, Erik pulled Charles in, a hand clamping over his mouth and the other going around his waist. Charles struggled against the hold, flailing and doing anything within his power to make Erik let go.

"Liebling, stop! Quiet! Don't-- If you keep this up, they'll be in here quick as a flash. Calm your mind, Charles."

Charles had half a mind to use his telepathy to make Erik let go, to make Erik pay, but all of a sudden he was attacked by a bout of dizziness. Erik's arms around him felt like shackles, slowly tightening and forbidding any air from entering his lungs; he couldn't breathe. Erik's voice might have been calling out his name, it was difficult to tell for it was getting dimmer and quieter, and Erik's face was swimming in and out of focus until everything faded to black and he neither saw nor heard Erik or anything else for that matter.

When Charles came to, he found his head pillowed upon Erik's lap, for Erik was knelt down amongst the concrete. His face looked awfully worried as blue grey eyes searched for something anxiously. Around them stood some of the MRA members, each of them hovering about uselessly, like annoying flies in summer heat.

"Charles?" Erik asked, taking a glass of something from one of the officers. "Drink this."

Charles pulled a face when the glass was pressed up against his lips. He made a whine of protest and stubbornly refused it, going so far as to glare tiredly up at Erik.

"Please, Charles."

Erik was gentle when he helped pour the amber liquid - brandy, perhaps - down into Charles' throat, where it burned unpleasantly all the way down that it made Charles splutter from the sensation.

"I-- must have fainted," Charles announced hoarsely. There was a stir amongst the officers and a number of murmured affirmations.

"I think he's feeling a little better now," Erik announced, looking up at each of the soldiers, "and thank you very much for how swiftly you came to my brother's aid. I suppose I should have broken the news of my execution a little gentler. If you could just leave the brandy with us, just in case."

The soldiers nodded, looking thoroughly embarrassed at one another and slowly shuffled out of the door. Charles supposed they had never encountered an omega fainting in a while.

The captain, or who Charles assumed was the captain, paused in the doorway. “If there's anything else we can do--"

"You have done more than enough," Erik said firmly. "Thank you."

The captain nodded and shuffled out, leaving the two of them alone once more. Erik refilled the glass and thrust it underneath Charles' nose.

"Have some more."

"No."

"Drink it."

Charles swallowed another mouthful, bristling underneath Erik's watchful eye. Warmth began to suffuse throughout his body and gradually his hands stopped shaking. When Erik refilled the glass a third time, Charles scowled and pushed it away, uncaring if Erik's sleeves got wet in the process. Erik, in retaliation, threw an arm firmly over Charles’ chest.

"I'm going. Let me up."

"No. You might faint again--"

"I'd much prefer to faint anywhere but here. With you."

The jibe didn't affect Erik any. "Be that as it may, I won't allow you fainting on the side of the road."

"What business is it yours where I faint? Let me go. I hate you."

The declaration amused Erik, for he chuckled darkly. "There's the spirited omega that I know. You must be feeling better."

"Of course," Charles retorted. He couldn't dwell on what had just transpired, for he had gambled upon taking a chance on Erik, on asking him for help, and now Westchester would be lost. Possibly forever. He doesn't even have a scrap of hurt pride to nurse any longer. The brandy gave him liquid courage to meet Erik's eye. "Why didn't you just tell me in the first place?"

"And miss everything you had prepared to say? No. I spend far too much time as it is on my lonesome. It has been quite some time since I have heard a business proposal quite like that."

Charles scrambled to his feet at the sound of Erik's mocking laughter, spinning to head towards the door. He was stopped by Erik's hands firmly on his shoulders.

"Tell me truthfully, Charles. Was I the only alpha that you were going to try this on?"

Charles refused to turn around. "That is none of your business."

"Oh, but it is every bit my business. Who else were you going to ask? Tell me."

The humiliation ran deep and Charles felt his cheeks flare up once more. "I wasn't going to ask anyone else," he grated out at last, a statement which once again surprised.

"Who would have thought, the great Charles Xavier without at least some alpha or another in reserve," Erik paused and shook his head in disbelief. "I imagine someone will offer a proposition for Westchester before it does go up for auction if it turns out you cannot find the money to pay those taxes. And when that time comes, try to be more subtle about your wants. Don't blurt it out like you did to me. Be more gentle. Seductive. Why, you were the epitome of that all those years ago. Have you forgotten your early training on how to handle alphafolk?"

"Don't tell me how I should or shouldn't behave."

"Ah, don't be like that Charles. Cheer up," Erik said with a smile. Had Charles turned around, he would have notice that Erik's hands had been curled up into fists and were shaking with barely bridled rage. Erik's voice gave nothing away. "You are welcome to come to my hanging and I'm sure it would make you feel a lot better. I'll mention you in my will and clear up any old scores between us."

How Erik could joke with the threat of a rope around his neck and about Charles' own dilemma? Charles wriggled free from Erik's hand and looked over his shoulder coolly. "The invitation is unnecessary, but they are not to hang you. Not until it is far too late to wrestle Westchester from my grasps. I won't allow it. Good day, sir," he said, and then walked away.

 

The weather had considerably worsened by the time Charles exited the fire station. The cold wind was chilly and there wasn't a carriage in sight in the street. It was moments like these that Charles was supremely glad he had been born a male, for he could not imagine trampling through the mud with a hoop skirt on.

He hurried down the street, picking his way back towards Aunt Letty's house. How could he ever return like this: empty handed when he had been boasting about getting the money saving Westchester?

So lost in his own thoughts as he crossed upon the narrow sidewalk, Charles doesn't hear when someone calls out to him.

"Surely, it can't be Mr. Charles!"

He whirled around, blinking in surprise to find Sebastian Shaw standing in front of him. "Mr. Shaw! What a pleasant surprise. I didn't know you were in New London."

"And I didn't know you were in town. It is a pleasure to see you though, my dear," said Sebastian warmly. "I visited your aunt the other day. And she never said anything about you visiting. Did you come down from Westchester alone?" Sebastian was thinking loudly about Angel.

"Yes," Charles said with a smile. "Aunt Letty didn't know I was coming. It was a surprise you see."

"Oh, I see. Is everyone back at Westchester doing well?"

"Yes, so-so. I--" Charles stopped abruptly. He found it so difficult to carry on a conversation like all those years ago when he had nothing to care about in the world except attracting the attention of every eligible gentlealpha within his age. Had to stop. Charles pushed the thoughts of Westchester out of his mind and surreptitiously took a deep breath in.

"Yes, Mr. Charles?"

"Oh! My apologies, I got lost in my thoughts there for a moment. I was meant to say that I wasn't expecting to meet old friends here in New London. I know I've been bad for not keeping up with news. Were you not meant to be in Eastwood?"

"Didn't Miss Angel tell you of how I have come to live in New London. Why, we're standing in front of my store right now," Sebastian said with a waved gesture at the smart shop front. The sign above the door read: 'Sebastian Shaw's Emporium'.

Vaguely, Charles recalled Angel talking about Sebastian - she talked of little else - but had always had other things occupying his mind to hear precisely the words coming out of Angel's mouth. "And what a charming store it is! I'm afraid my sister has been a little remiss about telling me precisely everything. But my, Mr. Shaw, you are a very clever man. Is it doing well?"

"Oh yes. Very well indeed. That's not to say I am a millionaire, Mr. Charles, but I've built upwards and made two thousand dollars this year. There's half of that that's gone in to restocking, repair works and the rent, but that's a thousand dollars in profit with business picking up."

At the mention of making profit, Charles sidled a little closer to Sebastian. "That's quite an achievement!" Charles looked up at Sebastian through the fan of his eyelashes. "Please sir, tell me more about your business? I know omegas generally don't have much say in such matters, but I am ever so curious to learn more."

"Well," Sebastian said at length. "Why don't we come into my store and talk about it over tea?"

"That sounds delightful and agreeable to me," Charles said with a charming smile, thanking Sebastian as they walked into the store and sat down to discuss Sebastian's plans of owning a sawmill which Sebastian explained would be a booming business considering how many houses were destroyed and how much wood the MRA had burnt that would generate a lot of demand.

Charles waded through Sebastian's thoughts like running fingers through a river, fascinated by all the different facets that made Sebastian who he was. It was evident that Sebastian had been enamoured by the idea of marrying Angel. After all, it was one of his main motivators in making a lot of money and a lot of money fast.

Pity that he was Angel's fiance, Charles thought, idly twirling through the variety of synapses and memories. He felt no qualm of conscience for his actions, for everyone with powers was free to use them as they pleased. Why couldn't he? His complete moral collapse had sent him to New London and now trifling with Sebastian's thoughts seemed but a minor thing. It would be so easy to make Sebastian forget all about Angel, to make Sebastian fall in love with him--

And there was nothing stopping him except himself.

For Charles does not fancy giving up Westchester to his youngest adoptive sister. Angel had always been flighty and prone to tantrums. If she were to become the headomega of Westchester, there was no telling if she would forbid everybody from staying there.

"Charles? Is the tea not to your liking?"

Charles made a show of picking up the fine bonechina cup and took a long satisfying sip. "Earl Grey," he commented offhand, "you have very good taste, Mr. Shaw."

And then slowly, thought by thought, memory by memory, Charles tore down the affection Sebastian held for Angel until Sebastian could no longer remember her face. Until all Sebastian could think about was Charles himself.

The damage was done like a drop of cream swirling languorously from the dark, black surface of the cup of tea down towards the bottom of the cup. This was the only way to secure his future and Charles wasn't going to feel sorry about appropriating his sister's fiancé to do it.

 

They married after a haphazard courtship that lasted two weeks, and were the topic of whispered murmurings for a good month afterwards. Charles couldn't bring himself to care about the consequences once Angel found out about it, for he married Sebastian in a small family gathering with Aunt Letty, Moira and Lucas present as representative of his family.

Later that night, after the lavish reception Sebastian insisted on throwing, Charles would watch with an air of disinterest as Sebastian attempted to consummate their marriage. He never realized that the omega he thought was underneath him was nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More coming soon in Part 2 (and 3). :D~

**Author's Note:**

>  **Art Masterpost:** [Here](http://asix-oud.tumblr.com/post/61958157971/x-men-reverse-big-bang-1010-another-day-in)


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